


To Love and To Hate

by jaeren



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Also ymir and historia will always be part of any fic I write I've realized love them, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I really am just writing a fic I wanted to read bhahahaha, Nothing like an enemies to lovers fanfic to keep me ALIVE, Older Eren Yeager, Plot Twists, Slow Build, Slow Burn, long hair eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28250937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeren/pseuds/jaeren
Summary: Kiss or kill?The Blood King rules over Paradis after the First War against Marley. Everything should be at peace, but instead the King takes a bride after a bride, executing them supposedly at sunrise. He has taken your best friend from you, and for that he will pay. You voluntarily enter the palace as his next bride, intent on surviving long enough to kill him, to dig a knife deep into his chest and watch the sparkle in his green eyes fade away — but the secrets he is hiding may be enough to hold you back.I really just wanted to write a “I have to kill you but I’m falling in love with you” kind of enemies to lovers story, so here it is ;) There will be an ending for Eren and one for Reiner(Part canon, part fantasy; Beginning of AU inspired by 1001 Nights)
Relationships: Eren Yeager/Reader, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun/Reader
Comments: 125
Kudos: 353





	1. Murderous Intent

**Author's Note:**

> I love love love the dynamic of "I hate to love you, love to hate you" kind of enemies to lovers, so here we go. I have a lot planned for this story, for a lot of the different aspects of this story and integrating bits of canon into it, and I am so excited to really dive deep into it. (It will be a mix of canon + fantasy for the background setup.) Please kudos and comment if you like it!
> 
> The main character will be called Y/N L/N so if you have a text editor, those are the terms to replace. For immersion, I try to use it sparingly, so if you don't like reader-inserts for that reason, you're in luck! Previously I was using Reader [LN] so if you see that anywhere still, let me know so I can quickly fix it. :)

The gold was heavy on your body. Ornate hoops clung to your ears, an elaborate jeweled necklace dipped low into your chest, and a variety of bejeweled rings were scattered on your fingers. Your ring finger was noticeably empty. So that the Blood King could slip his ring onto you, mark you his. You knew the ring he gave you would be the same emerald color of his eyes. You’d own it for a day, until the sun rose again tomorrow, after which the ring would be replaced with a noose. 

But if you succeed — and by the gods, you _had_ to — you’ll live another sunrise longer. Live to see the sunset once more, the glow of the moon, the brush of night air on your cheek. And if you were lucky, shrewd enough, you’d live long enough to plunge the knife you’ve strapped to your thigh deep into his chest. So you can see karma unfurl before you. So you can whisper the name of your best friend against his lips to remind him of what had been taken from you. So you can be the last one to look into his emerald eyes, still shining with life. It is purely revenge. 

“Please don't do this,” Terasa said to you. Her arms wrapped around you as her sobs shook your body. “Please. We’ve already lost one daughter. We can’t lose another to that monster.” 

“Terasa. I have to do this. I have to. For Reissa.” You swallowed. You hadn’t said her name aloud in so long. Only in whispers when you sobbed at night. 

“It’s treason!” said Terasa. “Please, don’t speak of it.”

You felt anger swell within you. “Why is it treason to take down the bastard killing us all? Why? Our blood is spilled so that he can keep rule with that arcane magic of his — I’ll end it. I’ll end it all. Even at the cost of my life.” Terasa continued to sob, and you let her. Let her wail, for you and for Reissa. 

Reissa’s family had been the ones to take you in when you lost your parents to the previous King Erwin’s war against Marley. Paradis had been losing — until the Blood King took over. With his ruthless ambitions to shoot down Paradis’ enemies no matter what the cost, the nickname was easily won just as well as Paradis’ freedom. The walls stayed intact, and Paradis stayed safe.

But then, years after the war when he took woman after woman as wife, executing them at sunrise — the name was brought back. Repeated. Kept. His real name you could hardly remember. It’s in the books somewhere. But that hardly mattered. You didn’t need a name to kill Reissa’s murderer.

By this point, you had no clue how many girls had been lost to his conquest. You had no clue why he was killing them, what his plan was. By the time it was your turn, 23 girls had been killed. 23 days of murder. The boy-king was 20 now. And so were you. The king only took girls his age as wife — not younger, not older. And girls his age were quickly running out. You had to get to him, had to kill him, before he could do worse damage. Before he had to separate another Reissa from her Y/N. 

“Terasa,” you said gently. “I’m sure the carriage will be here soon. I may be committing treason — but you don’t have to. Take the reward money, for providing yet another daughter to the king. And if … if they investigate you after his death — don’t say a word. You know nothing of it. I had never planned this with you. You and Reissa’s father have to stay innocent in all this.” Reissa’s father, Ryan, hadn’t left his room since the death of his daughter. He hadn’t spoken with anyone. You doubt he even knows you’ve offered yourself up as the next candidate. It was mostly Terasa who had taken care of you, anyway. 

Terasa still clung to you, and you let her. You wondered if there were tear stains on your wedding garment — equally as gorgeous as the jewels, it was a luscious gown of cream embroidered with green flowers. All provided for by the oh so generous King. Or, perhaps one of his lackeys. Why would the King bother with a bride he planned to kill? You nearly burst out into laughter at the thought of the King choosing a dress, a dazzling ring, for you. _For me! Hah!_

Once you both heard the knock on the door, you both sobered up. It was the carriage. Terasa wiped her tears on your sleeves. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small bottle of pills. There seemed to be four pills sitting inside.

“One to sedate. Two to put to sleep almost immediately. And three to kill. And if you’re caught — torture will be much worse than death.” 

You didn’t ask where she had gotten the pills from. You simply lifted the bottom of your gown up, and tucked the bottle in with your knife, tightening the strap to which you had tied it to your thigh. 

“Thank you. I will miss you. I will bring justice to Reissa, for you and for me. Goodbye, Teresa.” The goodbye was final; a part of you knew you'd never see her again.

You left the house on your own, unaccompanied by Terasa. You kept your head held high, and stepped into the carriage with as much grace and elegance as you could summon. 

After all, you would be queen soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter; future chapters will be much longer and detailed. So many questions to be answered ;) Comments are as precious as jewels to me! Feel free to message me here or on tumblr, where I am @jae-ren. I love you all, and thank you for choosing to even click onto this fic! <3


	2. Predator & Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I couldn't stop writing, so here is the second chapter. To match the pacing that I'm going at right now, we'll be formally meeting Eren next chapter. Sorry about that!

The palace is as grand as you had imagined. When the announcement came, that the King was getting married soon, that he would marry anyone eligible, all of Paradis was lively. After war, the next best thing is to move on. To keep moving forward, to bury the trauma amongst something prettier. And a wedding was the way to go.

You and Reissa had stayed up late, dreaming up the ways the wedding would take place, thinking of the palace as opulently your young minds could. The palace would have velvet carpets, rich warm shades. The Blood King would be much warmer than his name — after all, he was said to be handsome. The future Queen would be a beautiful soul, complementing the King’s darkness with her light. You secretly hoped that Reissa would get chosen — she was the prettiest girl you knew, and her personality was just as sweet.

Then two years passed, as if the announcement had been forgotten. You both had been 18 when the announcement was made, when all eligible ladies in Paradis were given the chance to apply. There was no wedding. No opulence. 

And suddenly, the rumors started. That the King had taken a wife. Some girl in from Northern Sina — nothing remarkable about her from the rumors. Just that she was executed the morning after. 

And then — before you knew it, five girls had been executed. Before they came for Reissa. 

There was nothing you could do. Reissa stayed courageous throughout it all. She was brave, and you were a coward. You wanted to run away, far far away. Maybe even run to Marley — surely nothing could be worse than the loss of your best friend. But Reissa wouldn’t have it. She wouldn’t risk the lives of others, just her own. She tried to weave tales of optimism, that the King would fall for her. That there was a reason for the rumors. That there was _sense_ behind the nonsensical. A dead girl every sunrise?

And then, Armin Arlert — the genius behind several of Paradis’ successes in the war, the King’s right hand, future successor to the Military — showed up at your door with an apology and money. You had to resist the urge to claw out his innocent and large blue eyes. How could he face you? How could he look at Terasa, a mourning mother, in the eyes? How could he forgive the King? These questions were a raging storm inside you. Terasa had left in her grief, requesting you to stay out the rest of Armin’s speech outside your door. While he apologized, attempted to explain things without actually giving an explanation — you thought of it. You had nothing to live for. You never really did. Yet, now you had a chance. For revenge. 

“Sir Arlert,” you began. Armin flinched and his speech stuttered to a stop.

“Yes? Miss …” He began, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N. I want to be the next bride,” you said. You kept your face carefully blank. Eyes neutral. While hate brewed in your heart, your face was a blank slate. You wondered if you should pretend infatuation, possibly pretend to be power hungry — but first you wanted to test the waters.

Armin’s eyes narrowed. He was a strategist, so of course he could tell that this wasn’t right. The best friend of the girl recently executed, an almost sister who had lost so recently — what kind of sane person would want to be near the cause of the loss?

“Miss L/N, unfortunately that isn’t possible. We have … arrangements. Your offer is appreci—”

“Please,” you begged. You decided that the pity was the best angle you could work at. “I — I want to fill Reissa’s shoes. We both dreamed of having a wonderful Queen besides our King. I want the best for Paradis, especially after the war. We need morale boosters, too, and what story would be better than the best friend of the recently excec—deceased queen?” 

Armin’s eyes briefly flashed with an unidentifiable emotion. “I … will let the King know. I’ll be off, then. Take care of yourselves.” 

You blinked several times, watching his green cape flutter out of view as he stepped into the carriage. That had been fruitless. You had no clue if you worked yourself into the role you needed for revenge.

And for thirteen more brides — thirteen as far as you knew based on the rumors, since months had passed — you sat in Reissa’s bed, her blanket wrapped around you, and worked up a plan if you were to someday be chosen. To get close to a king whose story was seeping with blood … near impossible. To kill that said king? The Blood King? So impossible that each time your head spun thinking of plunging a knife in. Of slitting his throat. Of choking his delicate throat. You might need to get creative in your desperation, and in your grief, you had.

And then, Armin Arlert showed up at your door again.

“Miss Y/N L/N. The Council has decided — you are to be Paradis’ next Queen.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. “Of course. I — I accept. When do I…” The words died in your throat.

Armin’s face took a gentler shape. “A month from now.” Interesting … the timing was not as you had predicted. 

“Alright. I’ll see you again in a month, then, Sir Arlert.” 

“Call me Armin from now on. I suspect we’ll be getting to know each other personally soon.” He quickly stepped back into his carriage in the same fashion he had left the last time you saw him. Your brows furrowed. What could he have meant by that?

And now you would know soon. You were walking down the hallways of the palace, with members of the Military Police escorting you as guards. There had only been a sullen guard inside your carriage, and the carriage driver. The guard occasionally gave you pitying looks, but didn’t speak to you. Only before you had exited the carriage did he say something.

“Good luck, Miss. I’m terribly sorry to see such a young lady as you go like this.” You nearly snorted in laughter. Terribly sorry? And yet what was he doing? He was a sheep, following a wolf. 

The guards now were worse. They looked angry — not at the situation, though. _At you._ They looked at you like you were cattle being ready for the chopping block, like they couldn’t stand the sight of you. 

You heard a whisper as you passed several tall doors towards the throne room. “It’s another one … how quickly do you think she’ll die?” “Judging by the looks of her, she’ll faint the second she sees _him._ ” You clenched your jaw as the main doors to the throne were thrown open.

You had a split second to decide whether or not to demurely look down at the ground as you approached the King, or whether to keep your head up and eyes straight. Your blood boiled at the thought of submitting so easily, at the thought of proving the MP guards correct, and so you straightened your spine. You put purpose in your stride, and walked like a predator on the way towards their prey. 

And when you looked at your prey, all you could think was that he looked delicious _. At least he’s pretty to look at._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Requests? Tumblr is @jae-ren! :)


	3. A Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration picture (from pinterest) for how I describe Eren: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/341288478017445951/

You interacted with boys often enough to know that the King was handsome, greatly above average. Long strands of brown trailed out of a loosely tied bun hanging low on his neck, curving over his sharp collarbones. Some shorter strands were haphazardly arranged over his thickly arched eyebrows, and they shifted as he changed his position on the throne. His bone structure was a mix of something feminine and masculine at once: a sharpened jaw and narrowed eyes, yet an elongated thin nose and full lips. Above all what you noticed most were his eyes. Wall Maria, Rose, and Sina — they were beautiful. The closer you got to him, the more you noted their brilliance. The jewels hanging off your body suddenly felt like cheap metals in comparison to the green gems of his. Your heart thudded in your chest and even you had to admit it was more a cause of attraction than the nervousness you had been anticipating.

You approached as close as you could before he lifted his palm up. He adjusted his position once more. It was obvious he hadn’t gotten the hang on sitting on such a large chair with the way he attempted to adjust himself multiple times. Now, his ankle knocked into the armchair and he threw his right leg over his left, making a slight _thudding_ sound. You noticed one of his guards, standing to his right — much shorter than the rest — blatantly roll his eyes and scoff. The guard to the left, tall and beautiful looked at him in concern, though you doubted merely knocking your ankle onto a chair warranted it.

A voice spoke out behind you as the doors were thrown open. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Armin breathed out. It was clear he had sprinted here; his blond locks were disheveled and beads of sweat shone on his button nose. He stepped up to the dais, and you noticed the King threw him a small smile. The corner up his mouth quirked up slightly and you swore you noticed his eyes sparkle.

 _Fuck, Y/N. Are you a schoolgirl with a crush, or a girl on a mission?_ You had never been more irate with yourself. Why was this murderer so attractive to you? There was sort of dissonance in your head, trying to connect the person behind all those deaths — behind Reissa’s death — with this boy King with glittering green eyes. 

“Y/N L/N,” said Armin, giving an identity to your presence. As if they didn’t all know it. “Your Highness.” He added after a brief pause, as if he wasn’t used to the honorific.

Blood thundering in your veins, you picked up the courage to clear your throat before speaking. “And can I get a name to put to your face, Your Highness?”

The King’s mouth quirked up again, and you wondered if perhaps he’d smile at you like he had at Armin. But, he smirked instead. Your face flushed in anger. 

Armin turned towards the short guard, as if seeking permission. He nodded, and Armin turned back to you.

But before Armin could speak on the King’s behalf, a deep voice filled the room, coming out of the King’s lips.

“Eren Yeager,” he drawled. “Pleased to meet you, Y/N.” He spoke to you informally; in another world, that would’ve made sense, given you were his bride-to-be. But in this world — what right did he have to be so friendly?

“I’d prefer you address me by my last name,” you said silkily. “It’s just, well, I hardly know you. I mean, I just learned your name.”

Now, he smiled. Almost a grin. “Alright, Miss L/N. Even if we are to be married.”

“I wonder for how long,” you said, the words slipping out of you before you could hold them back. _Fuck._ You were supposed to play the character of a besotted love-struck fool. But the fire in your veins could not be contained. And so, you quirked an eyebrow up: a challenge, an invitation.

The MP guards standing behind you gasped, and you knew if you turned around they would be staring at you incredulously. _So much for fainting,_ you thought to yourself. You were not a weak girl, and would never be, and you were glad to prove the guards wrong, even if it meant losing your cover.

“Hopefully much longer than the last one. She was a terrible bore—” 

“Eren!” growled the short guard. His eyes were narrowed almost to slits. “I mean, Your Highness. Please, excuse him, Miss L/N. It’s been a long day for us all.”

 _The day has hardly started,_ you thought. You almost wished he hadn’t interrupted. You were readying yourself to retort to Eren. You also wished the guard would give his name — who was this man who could chastise the king? You didn’t have to wonder for long.

“I’m Captain Levi Ackermann. I’ll be assigning you a guard to take care of you,” he said. He roughly motioned at the MP standing behind you. “All of you brats, out.” They saluted, and hurriedly stomped out. 

The beautiful woman, the other guard spoke up, giving her name now, too. “You look beautiful in your wedding attire, Y/N. I’m Mikasa Ackermann. I’m His Highness’ main guard.” She spoke so gently, so sweetly, you couldn’t summon an ounce of ire against her. 

“If we’re doing introductions, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dhalis Zachary. I will be conducting your, ah, marriage.” 

You held back a sarcastic _wonderful._ You were shocked they weren’t using a Pastor of the Walls. But, you realized mostly likely, by this point the Pastors had faded into obscurity now that the earlier war beyond the walls had eliminated most of their followers. What was the power of walls, when enemies break them easily with demolition equipment? 

“Alright,” began Dhalis. “Miss L/N, if you would just walk up here.”

You took long strides to get to the dais quickly. The faster this was over, the better. You needed to be alone with Eren, and getting married was the quickest way. You didn’t let your mind linger on the concept, knowing you would blush furiously if you thought of the traditional night post marriage.

Eren stood up, sliding his gaze over your form slowly, like he was drinking you in. You wondered what he thought of you. You wondered if he was dismissive of you, as just another pretty face to kiss, marry, kill. You clenched your jaw, and calmed your fury by focusing on the press of the cold knife against your thigh. Your real purpose here had nothing to do with your mortal feelings, with whatever attraction was biologically brewing within you.

Dhalis moved himself such that he was between you and Eren. He grabbed Eren’s hands, and then yours, lifting them up such that your palms touched. Just barely, but even then you could feel the heat radiating from Eren’s palms. While Dhalis spoke, beginning the shortened marriage ceremony, you strategized. You had to abandon the infatuation plan — you wondered if that was a good thing. If Eren was so good looking, he’s probably seen that before, anyway. What you needed was for him to be intrigued. You needed him to want you for long enough to hurt him. You _couldn’t_ die tomorrow. You were determined to look at the sun tomorrow morning, to let it burn through you like a fire. 

But you wanted to hurt him as soon as possible. You wanted to take your knife and slice it against his palms, watch ruby droplets drip to the floor of the throne room. You wanted to see his gorg—his green eyes pinch in pain, his face crumple. The grief had been building within you for so long, and it needed an outlet.

And you were granted one, soon, you realized. Dhalis had stepped away from you and Eren; your palms dropped as Eren’s face inched closer to yours. _The kiss…_ you had forgotten.

While your hands had dropped by your side, Eren’s hand slid up your jaw to behind your neck. Your heart skipped a beat as his lips pressed over yours, gentle at first. But then, his fingers pushed past your hair, grabbed onto it and _tugged_. A gasp — pleasure or pain? — breathed onto his lips, and instantly his kiss was greedy. Violent. 

You forgot about the audience, and almost set to return the passionate energy tenfold. But then you thought of Reissa’s ghost watching over you, thought of how she would feel to see you liplocked passionately with her assailant. And so, you pulled Eren in deeper with your lips, and then bit down on their softness as hard as you could. The copper taste of blood entered your mouth. _A taste of his mortality._ Eren pulled away almost instantly, his tongue swiping over yours as he moved away.

“You are now husband and wife. King and Queen,” Dhalis said. His voice was miles away as you watched the green-eyed boy respond to your violent kiss.

Your face was hot as you watched him lick the blood away. There was more of his blood on you, in you, than on his lips now. His eyes were locked onto yours. And then he grinned. _Hmm?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so as you can tell I was thirsty. Sorry for the gratuitous description of how good Eren looks, I couldn't help it. I've never written a kiss scene before, so let me know if you liked it, even if was rather brief. Also I'm thinking of writing a series of oneshots for AOT to practice writing romantic interactions (like smut lol because I'm never done that before either haha I've only really ever read it and I need to practice writing that for this story), so if you guys happen to have requests or ideas, let me know. Tumblr is @jae-ren. (Oh, and I don't really edit or look over things, so let me know if you notice any errors or something confusing.)


	4. Introspection, Preparation

Shortly after getting married — you didn’t want to linger on _that_ concept — you and Eren parted, and Captain Levi walked you to your quarters. 

“Here’s your room,” he said brusquely, trying to unlock your door with a variety of keys. “We’re still working out your guard situation, so for now MP guards will be stationed outside. Please don’t leave your room unless directed to, or until your guard arrives. There are dangers you are unaware of.”

“I could be aware of them if you’d tell me,” you said. Dangers? What kind of dangers could there be if the war was won? The only danger you were aware of was the Blood King — _Eren,_ you corrected — tiring of you and having this Captain Levi execute you come tomorrow morning. And why were they still searching for a guard for you?

Captain Levi only grunted, finally succeeding in finding the right key. He threw open your doors. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, and just stay here,” he said, tilting his chin to prompt you to walk inside. Before closing your doors, he nodded at you. It was probably the closest he’d ever come to an encouraging smile. “Make yourself at home.” A pause. “Your Highness.” And then he was gone, and you were alone.

You paced in your room anxiously. You didn’t know when Eren would walk through the doors. You needed a plan. Should you seduce him? You wondered if he had enough time to indulge in anything frivolous. Your face heated up as you thought of him half undressed, his long hair messily arranged and his shirt — you stopped your train of thought, and instead focused on finding a proper hiding spot for the pills Terasa had gotten you.

The room was luxurious, nicer than you’d ever have imagined. Dark hardwood floors with a plush cream colored rug covering most of the room; velvet curtains thrown open letting in natural light out of the rather large windows; a large canopy bed filled with at least a dozen plush pillows of varying sizes; tall and imposing wardrobes and a vanity stocked with unlabeled yet fancy looking bottles. The room was the very picture of what you’d imagine a queen to have. You wanted to linger on that feeling, of being queen, of being “your highness,” even if briefly — but then you thought of the girls before you and the desire to vomit was stronger than any other emotion you could register. 

You ran to the only other set of doors in the room, knowing and hoping it would be a bathroom, and emptied the contents of your stomach into a marble sink. After washing the putrid taste of vomit out of your mouth, you looked up in the mirror to face yourself. Terasa had arranged your hair beautifully, with two braids on each side of your head and some face framing strands. And she’d even applied a tint of rouge from her younger days on your cheeks, brightening and lifting them. But now, you looked sickly, tired. And you hadn’t even started your mission. 

You had framed yourself to be this _strong_ girl, capable of killing a king who had long ago killed others. Who was still killing others. Had you bitten off more than you could chew? Would you die before Eren did? 

But you wouldn’t let yourself linger on those pessimistic thoughts. You had died with Reissa, so the least you could do was try. Try and fail, or try and succeed — at least you were trying. You splashed your face with some water and pinched your cheeks to bring back some color. You bit down on your lips to bring color there, too, and suddenly remembered Eren’s lips. The kiss … had been something else. But his reaction to your violent biting was entirely more confusing than your own reaction. What kind of man reacts like that? You figured he’d at least recoil properly. Maybe glare at you, maybe order your execution then and there. But he had looked at you _intrigued._ As if, he’d been waiting for you to surprise him, to bite back. You brought a hand up to your lips — maybe seduction wouldn’t be so bad … 

_Shut up, Y/N._ You had never factored in being attracted to the King. To Eren. The stories had never spoken about this appearance, and so you’d never worried about it. You decided to attempt to compartmentalize the side of yourself that wanted to, simply said, fuck him against the side of you that wanted to kill him. You figured that some part of your biology had mixed up your intense desire to hurt him into an intense desire of lust, and that helped with tampering whatever stupid feelings had emerged. 

This introspection was a waste of time, you were realizing, coming back to the problem of not knowing when Eren would show up. Quickly, you glanced around the bathroom. The bathroom was least likely to be searched, since you would most likely be spending the least amount of time in there. You suddenly had a brilliant idea — the curtains! Bathroom curtains were almost never opened, for the sake of privacy, and if they were, just a peak of light would slip through. It was true even now; the curtains were just barely open, enough to allow light to fill the room. 

You walked over to one of the curtains, and leaned down to examine the hem. Sure enough, the large curtains had a thick hemmed edge. Reaching underneath the bottom of your dress, you grabbed your knife and cut a small slit, barely noticeable, into the bottom of the hem. Taking the bottle of the pills, you slipped it inside, pushing it in a little more past the point of the rip. Then, you stood back to check if it was a noticeable thing — thankfully, the bottle was on the smaller side, and so the bulge of the bottle on the bottom hem of the curtains was equally small. No one would notice it, unless they were searching for a small bottle sized bump. 

Having accomplished that, you now had a new problem. The knife. Where to hide _that?_ The knife had been something you purchased with the only money you had ever had, a small sum of coins given to you yearly by Reissa’s family. It was small, but sharp, and the decor was minimalistic, with some gold filigree twisting around the handle. 

You finally settled on the cliched idea of putting it underneath your pillows. You were annoyed that was your only option, especially since you worried that if, say a maid, were to rearrange your bed, there was a chance of them finding it.

 _Fuck,_ you thought, realizing that could be a problem. But then, you realized that the bed was rather low on the ground. If you were to keep your knife underneath the bed, you could easily swing your arm underneath to retrieve it for when you needed it, or walls forbid, an emergency situation, thinking back to the dangers Captain Levi had mentioned. So you tucked the knife underneath your bed, practicing the movement of taking out the knife to perfect its location and placement. 

Once that was over with — you realized you were ready. Your palms began to sweat with anticipation. You could kill Eren tonight. You could get it over with as soon as possible. You could … 

But, your mind itched. Why did none of his personal guards treat him more formally, especially in the face of a stranger? Why were they having trouble with your guard? What dangers could there possibly be? And what was Eren’s face in all of this? And the biggest question of all — _why?_

Shortly after Reissa’s death, that was all you wanted to know. You didn’t want revenge. You just needed to know why. You wanted to cry, to sob, to shake the King by his collar and beg him to tell you what it was all for. Why on Paradis did he have to slaughter all those girls, why did he have to dress it under the beautiful covers of marriage of all things, why did he have to choose Reissa — why had he finally chosen you now?

The questions burned in your mind. You needed to put the fire out. But the angry fire in your heart, the one that ached to make Eren hurt roared to life as well. Which would you pursue? Curiosity, or satisfaction? 

You sat on your bed, mulling both paths over. You didn’t even notice the sun set, how your room darkened slowly. Finally, several debate-filled hours later, you settled on an answer — curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. You would accomplish both of your objectives, and die trying. 

And then you realized that it was night. The moon was out, filling the room with silvery light. You would need to turn on the light if you wanted to see everything in greater detail, but you had a more pressing concern. Where was Eren? He should have been here by now, so you could begin your campaign of convincing him to keep you alive past tomorrow. 

A knock on the door was heard, jarring you out of your thoughts. _Eren!_

You ran to the door, but before opening it, you composed yourself. You smoothed down your hair and pulled down the neckline of your dress. You bit your lips and pinched your cheeks. Taking a final deep breath, you opened up the door.

Only the man in front of you was not the long haired brunette you were expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This is a sort of an in between chapter. Who do you think it is? Oh, and I have written a NSFW holiday one-shot for Eren if you want to check it out! It's under my profile as "Take You There." Happy holidays! Feel free to leave requests in the comments, and I look forward to your comments and feedback! :D


	5. Of (Blond) Boys and Blue Bells

He was slightly taller than Eren, and his shoulders were slightly wider. Instead of long brown waves, he had straight cropped blonde hair, the color a burnished yellow, though it was also apparent that he was growing it out by the way some strands curled over his forehead, unruly. He sported stubble on his chin and upper lip of the same color, and you had the thought that it would be rough against your skin. His eyes were thin cuts of an almond shape, and a light brown, almost gold, color. This was obviously not Eren, and yet, who was he?

“H-hello? How can I help you?” you asked. Your voice was slightly croaky, having been hours since you last spoke aloud. 

“I’m Reiner Braun,” he began. “Captain Levi has assigned me to be your personal guard.”

So this was him. Your guard. You wondered why they had chosen him in the end.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you,” you said politely. You would need to be in polite, if not friendly, relations with your guard, especially if he was to be near you at all times. You wondered if you should perhaps ask him to come inside, to have a sip of water perhaps. But before that, you needed to check in on Eren.

“So, Reiner — unless I should call you Sir Braun?” 

“Reiner is fine,” he said. His eyes were blank — it was hard to read any emotions on his face.

“Right, Reiner. When should I be expecting Ere — His Highness?”

“Oh, that was the other thing I’m supposed to tell you. Eren won’t be able to see you tonight.”

Your brows furrowed together. Not even to talk? “Is there any particular reason?”

“None that I’ve been instructed to tell you,” he replied. So there was a reason, but one that Reiner wouldn’t tell you. 

“Well, then I demand you take me to him.” If he wouldn’t tell you, surely you could get to Eren and have him explain it to you face to face. “I am, after all, your Queen.” _No matter for how long._

A corner of Reiner’s lip seemed to raise, as if he was amused by your assertions. 

“Eren is otherwise occupied.”

You were almost at your breaking point. How was this man avoiding answering any question concretely so well? 

“Surely you can tell me _something?_ Otherwise I’ll run right out and find him myself.” You didn’t realize until after you said it that it would be impossible to push past his muscular frame — and after all, he had training to apprehend and you would only be relying on instinct.

“Miss L/N. Your Highness,” he said. You flinched, still unused to the honorific. “Eren, er, the King is not in the palace. He is — busy with certain matters.”

 _Fuck._ You had never considered that the King would ever need to leave the palace. After all, the war was over. Fought and done with. But you thought again of those dangers. 

You deflated visibly, shoulders sagging. You had been so prepared: your words rehearsed, every action prepared, even the sarcastic little jabs you could use to throw Eren’s composure. And all for nothing.

Reiner seemed to notice, he himself becoming awkward. He adjusted his stance, and looked around the hallways. 

“Perhaps I could take you for a tour? Around the palace? Maybe the gardens? I’m still getting used to the palace itself, but the gardens I’m well acquainted with.”

You hesitated. That would involve letting your guard down, especially with this newfound stranger. You found yourself looking into his golden eyes, searching for any sign of animosity, of hidden malice. You found only sympathy, along with a disguised curiosity for your response.

“Alright. Let me put on a warmer shawl,” you said, closing your doors without his response. In truth, you wanted to sheath your knife again, just in case. Reiner’s body was well equipped, and with the wires wrapped around him, there was an array of blades sheathed at his hip. You would need a defense yourself. 

After hiding your knife, you opened one of the armoires to find some sort of covering. Your eyes widened, staring at the piles and piles of clothes: some decorated dresses, some simple shirts, some pressed pants. You had only ever cycled through some basic clothes while at home, some clothes sewn together with cheap fabrics; running your fingers through the racks of clothes you only felt silken smoothness. You righted yourself, trying to detach from this wonder, and found a thick green hooded cape of sorts. There was a logo, of black and white wings, and you realized it was the cape the scouts were often found wearing. You wondered if there was a reason for its placement in your wardrobe, but it didn’t matter. The cape was warm and soft, and that was good enough for you.

“Reiner, I’m ready,” you said, exiting your room. Reiner nodded brusquely, and began to walk ahead of you, leading the way.

There was a quiet silence for a bit, with only your footsteps echoing as you stalked through the halls. It was parts comfortable, parts awkward. But you didn’t know how to break the silence, especially not with a soldier you knew nothing about. Thankfully, Reiner did.

“So, Your Highness—”

“Call me Y/N. If I can call you Reiner, it is only right,” you said matter of factly. 

“Y/N,” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the syllables in your name one by one. “I suppose I was wondering why you’re here.”

You held back a snort. If only he knew, it was premeditated murder. “I knew someone who had stood in my shoes beforehand.”

Reiner turned back to look at you, an eyebrow raised. “And that didn’t scare you away? Surely, you’ve heard of the rumors.”

“Then, let’s say I’m here to prove them wrong,” you replied. Your throat felt restricted suddenly. You decided to take a stab in the dark. “What reasons could the King have? In killing girl after girl?” You wondered briefly if you were being rash, too forward — Reiner could easily report you, and you’d be dead before you’d even start anything.

You were, instead, surprised to find him scowling. 

“Honestly? I’ve no fucking clue,” he said stormily. “I knew the first girl. We all knew her, having gone through training together. Her name was Historia. One day, she was with us, talking to us. The next day, she … was gone. And the next girl, too, I knew. Her name was Ymir — least likely girl to ever get _married._ Especially not to Eren.” 

You drank this information up like it was expensive wine. You would need to look into these names, as well as the concept of training. Reiner had trained with these girls, and the King? The monarchy system was confusing as ever to you. Once, it had been familial, until Commander Erwin had taken over after a well thought out coup, or so Terasa had told you. You hadn’t kept up much with politics. And then, after his death in battle, the Blood King took over. His real name was never spread, though it was in the history books — just that wherever he followed, death did as well, as if he stomped over life after life, rumbling through them one by one, green eyes glinting. That had been all you knew about at that point, his bloody namesake, and his green eyes being the most remarkable thing about him.

“She disappeared, too?” you asked. 

“Disappeared is the right word, but it’s not completely right. We were told they were executed, for different reasons. Historia had been treason for harboring information about the old monarchy. Ymir, apparently, had tried to murder Eren.” 

You gaped, jaw dropping open immediately. Murder? That was your plan. You swallowed, carefully choosing your next words.

“Do you know anything more than that? Maybe — why exactly she would attempt … to kill?”

Reiner shook his head, and pulled open the doors the two of you had approached. 

“No. This was all we were told, and all that I saw. My friends and I — I mean, my friend and I, we were looking into it,” Reiner said, rushing at the end. 

“Who is your friend?” you asked, careful to note any changes in Reiner’s reaction.

Reiner’s eyes turned stormy, his jaw clenched. “Not a friend any longer.” He almost struggled to get the words out. You decided not to pick at this too much — it was apparently a sore subject. Besides, now that you knew what a resource of information Reiner could be, you had another new goal: to get closer to him and uncover as much as you could. 

The two of you walked in silence again, approaching the gardens officially. The moon shone over you, alighting your path. The gardens were truly beautiful, a mosaic of pastels and green shrubbery. You thought of Reissa and her love of gardening; she adored campanula, bell flowers most of all. You walked ahead of Reiner, and found yourself looking for their telltale blue-violet petals, almost frantically.

Reiner rushed towards you, as if he couldn’t lose you in your newly found wild wake to find the flowers. “Looking for something in particular, Y/N?”

“I — my friend, she liked flowers, and I’m just looking for them,” you gasped out, out of breath as you scoped the rows of roses, the aisles of asters. Your blood was pounding in your ears — you could not comprehend your desperation. Perhaps it was because after Reissa’s death, you had let the flowers die, too. You needed to find them, see them alive and well again.

“Maybe I can help? What do they look like?” Reiner asked. You stopped straight in your path. For some reason, you wanted to yell at him. How could he possibly help? Reiss and her flowers were gone forever. You felt tears stream down your cheeks, and you brought your hands up to touch your wet cheeks, surprised to find such a reaction. Reiner, too, looked shocked. The wind whistled past the two of you: you, the weeping girl, and Reiner the stoic statue-like guard, frozen in place.

Reiner said nothing for a moment, and you let the tears of grief flow freely. You needed to cry — this day had been so much for you, and you constantly struggled to hold back thoughts of Reissa from leaking into your mind. 

“Over there,” Reiner said quietly, motioning to a small bed of blue. They looked a dark purple in the darkness, so you hadn’t noticed them, having only been searching for bright spots of blue or a pale lilac shade. He grabbed onto your hand and gently pulled you over towards the flowers.

You knelt down to the ground, and picked one up. The petals were soft to the touch. You lifted them up, as if to use them to brush your tears away. 

“I look like a mess, don’t I?” you asked humorlessly. Letting this near stranger witness your sudden breakdown — you felt like an idiot.

“Yes,” Reiner said honestly. You felt a grin bloom on you at his response; had you gone mad? “But I understand it. You’ve lost something — someone — precious. And this is all that’s left for you. Memories of her, manifest only in these flowers.” 

It was true. You had nothing else of hers to remember her by; her clothes had been taken with her to the palace and the family had not been wealthy enough to have any special keepsakes of hers, such as a necklace she wore or the like. All you had was the blanket the two of you had shared in sleep, and even that smelled more of you alone now than the two of you.

Reiner took a deep breath, and sank down to the ground next to you.

“Tell me about her.” 

And so you began.

“There had been no reason for her to like me at all. I had shoved her down to the ground — I’d never seen such a pretty happy girl. I’d been surrounded by dirty orphans, I was a dirty orphan myself. I could barely remember the color of my mother’s eyes, the name my father might’ve called me. And so I was jealous of her, of her beauty, her family, and her happiness. But she didn’t let my bitterness affect her at all. She would bring me sweets, even if I crumbled them underneath my toes out of malice. Until one day, I couldn’t do it anymore, forcing the anger against the world, against her. I just wanted to accept her love. And before I knew it, her family had taken me in. We did everything together. While she gardened, I painted the flowers she grew. While she baked, I gathered eggs for her out in the backyard, where we had one chicken. While she sewed, I stood straight for her, to use me as a mannequin. We shared our dreams and our thoughts. She wanted to make a difference in the world, somehow. Maybe even find a soulmate in that journey. And then the King took her. And now we’re here. I came to follow in her footsteps, maybe to find answers, you know? She was the only family I had. Her mother and father, they were sweet, but they’d taken me in more as someone to give their daughter happiness, like a doll. Terasa, her mother, treated me well, don’t get me wrong, but I knew it was Reissa who kept me in the family. And it was Reissa who kept me there even after her death, because I was the last thing remaining of her daughter. I’ve known loss before. And I’ve let it embitter me before. But now — it’s an empty feeling inside of me, that I can only fill with answers. A form of justice on its own.” The words streamed out of you just as your tears had before. While the tears were now dry, your words were an open wound pouring out blood the more you spoke. You wondered how Reiner would respond to this wound of yours.

Reiner said nothing for a while, until he leaned down and picked up a flower just as you had. He handed it to you. “You won’t get Reissa back, Y/N. No matter what you do. But you can still live, without her. I won’t tell you how to, that’s something only you can decide. But … at least you can take comfort in knowing that the flowers she loved are still growing, somewhere. Here, there are.” 

The cynical side of you wondered if he was word vomiting some motivational bullshit to comfort you, but then you saw the shine in his eyes, and you realized he had known loss, too. You hoped he would tell you eventually — you suddenly realized just how much you had told him, even in your first night of knowing him. You didn’t want to be in this unequal relationship, where you had told him so much more about yourself than you knew about him.

Just as you were about to ask him a probing question, you heard a rustling in the trees. A figure clad in a green cape so similar to yours flew out in front of you, propelled by some sort of vertical wiring mechanism attached to their body and the trees above. Instantly you were on high alert, and before Reiner could react, you had lept up and snatched a blade from his hips, ready to fight your possible assailant. Reiner quickly got to his feet, too, taking a similar defensive position. The blade gleamed in the night’s light, and it had a heavy weight to it, and it gave you a much more steady feeling of safety than your knife would have granted you.

The figure spoke as he emerged out of the light.

“And what do we have here?” Eren asked, head cocked to the side. Both his hands held an open blade, rather than the singular one you had. You glared at him — the very reason for your tumultuous displays of emotion. The Blood King himself, standing in the same cape you had on, except soaked in blood. You wanted to lunge at him, take the blade and the opportunity together to finish what you had started, to make his blood mingle with that of whose was already staining his clothes. But you caught the blue hue of the bell flowers you had dropped in your defensive leap, and remembered what Reiner had said to you just before. 

You had to live, without Reissa. And you would live, for Reissa. Maybe not by killing Eren — at least not straight away — but by making him _wish_ he would die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this rather emotional chapter. This work is parts Eren x Reader and parts Reiner x Reader, not just because of wish fulfillment, haha, but also for the plot. Eren is definitely the main male lead, but I think if it's requested enough I'll also have an alternate Reiner ending because he's growing on me. I look forward to your delightful comments. Until next time! :)


	6. Vague Flirtations

You forced yourself to smile and lowered your blade. You were surprised to see that Reiner was still in his defensive position, as if he were preparing for an attack.

“We were out for a walk in the gardens, Your Highness.” You wondered what you should do with the blade, if you weren’t going to use it. 

“Hmm,” Eren hummed. He walked closer towards the two of you, and plucked a bell flower from the ground. “You’ve found my favorite part of the garden.”

“Is that so?” You were being purposefully vague; you needed Eren to leave you and Reiner alone. While your previous objective had been to get closer to Eren, it wasn’t in this context. Now that you were getting closer to getting more information from Reiner, you didn’t want to lose your opportunity here. You also hated that newly learned the fact that now Eren was in association with a precious memory of Reissa.

Eren, however, seemed to have the opposite wish. “Reiner, leave me and Y/N. She’ll be safe with me.” What was with Eren? He suddenly wanted to talk to you?

Reiner seemed hesitant to leave, but nodded and appeared to make his way out, but awkwardly came to a stop. He walked back, and motioned towards your blade. 

Flustered, you handed it back to him. “Sorry,” you whispered. Reiner gave you a weak smile to show his understanding, and then he left soundlessly. 

For moments, there was silence, nothing besides the sound of the wind and a distant sound of rushing water, perhaps from a fountain nearby in the gardens. Without the weapon to hold, your hands felt foreign; they dangled loosely by your sides aching for a purpose. Eren seemed to be analyzing you, green eyes roving over your face and body. You wondered what he was thinking, what lens he was looking at you through.

“Interesting choice of outerwear,” he finally said, breaking the silence. His fingers made to touch the fabric of the green cloak, but stopped halfway. “It’s a bit short on you, though.”

“This was all I could find in my room,” you said. “Nothing to provide warmth besides this, really.” Most of the clothes had been obviously designed for the day, summer days specifically.

Eren shrugged. “We’re not expecting you to stay for that long. Winter’s a few months away.”

Your jaw dropped. Would he truly be so cavalier about this? Two could play at this game.

“Have you decided on the story behind my execution yet?” You aimed for a tone of purposeful indifference. Finding a place for your hands, you held them at your hips as you moved your weight to lean on your right leg.

“Nothing yet, but I’m open to ideas.” Eren had a playful shine in his eyes as he looked down at your defiant posture, looking like he was enjoying this. 

“I was partial to one, but I hear you’ve already gone through the “attempt on your life” excuse. Ymir, was it?” You didn’t have a weapon on hand, but your words were good as one.

Instantly, whatever lively mood was on Eren’s face disappeared.

“Where did you hear about her?” His voice was cold as ice. The gears in your head turned; so he cared about Ymir.

“Nowhere, everywhere,” you said. “You know how the rumor mill works, _my King_ — I’ve got other names, too. Have you heard of Historia?” Your words slipped out easily; you were aiming to hurt, and you wanted to test if he’d react to Historia as much as he had to Ymir.

Eren sneered. “You’re wearing her cape, Y/N. No one else has a shorter cape than her.” So he cared for her, too. Your skin crawled as you took the information in; you were wearing the clothes of a dead girl. The cape _was_ rather short, coming up to your waist rather than your hips as Eren’s did.

“So I’ve got a dead girl’s cape, presumably one you killed, and you’ve got someone’s blood on yours. What a pair we make — Paradis’ King and Queen, death incarnate.” You undid the cape’s central hook, and slid it off your body. The cool wind snipped at your skin. Your cream wedding dress, which you were still wearing — your wedding day was the longest day of your life yet — was modestly designed for the most part, but the neckline plunged more than other dresses and the thin fabric that clung to your upper body was more appropriate for a slip than clothing for winter weather.

“I didn’t kill them!” he shouted, surprising you. His deep voice rang in the empty garden like bells, and you felt it echo inside your own head. _He didn’t kill them?_

“You might as well have!” If he would shout, so would you. You inched closer to him, flying on your feet by your toes. With every word you spoke, you jabbed a finger into his chest, wishing it was your knife instead: “Every girl, every single girl you’ve ‘married,’ they’re dead on your orders, Eren. _You_ are the problem here.”

Eren squeezed his eyes shut, face contorting in anguish — you were affecting him. You relished in it, relished in his suffering and the fact that _you_ were the one digging the knife in. For so long, it had been you in pain. For so long, you had waited for the opportunity to reciprocate the torment, and now you finally had.

Your chest heaved, as you waited for a response from Eren. His eyes opened, and you were shocked to see how _tired_ he looked. As if his bones were the only thing keeping him standing, weary from the world.

“Listen, Y/N. You might think that you know everything about everyone. But you know jack-fucking-shit. I know why you’re here — to hurt me, maybe kill me. Revenge for your dear Reissa—” Hearing _her_ name in _his_ mouth put you to action, and before you knew it, you were on him, pushing him down to the ground, clawing at his face, tears clouding your vision. 

With overwhelming strength, Eren flipped the two of you over, pinning you to the ground. As the tears slipped out of the corners of your eyes down to the ground, you saw you’d managed to scrape a line across his right eyebrow. Beads of blood had formed, similar to the tears bubbling in your eyes. You thrashed this way and that under his grip, but he wouldn’t let loose, not even to wipe at the wound. His fingers painfully pressed into your wrists, and his knees had your thighs affixed to the grass. Your heart beat louder and louder, and you pretended it was only a result of your chaotic movements and not because you were becoming increasingly aware of all the places Eren was touching you.

“Listen to me! For the walls’ sakes, let me finish talking before you go feral.” His words had started as a yell, but quieted to whispers that you struggled to catch amidst your wild struggle against him. 

“You might take care to realize the rumor mill is purely _rumors_.”

“Then what about your calls of treason! The messages of death!” you gasped out, tiring from your thrashing. You thought of when you had first met Armin when he first came to announce Reissa’s passing, of how official it had been.

“Circumstance,” he said simply, not elaborating. His grip on you lessened.

“Why can’t you tell me more?” You were near to begging. You needed to make sense out of the sudden madness set out before you.

Eren laughed humorlessly. “I shouldn’t have even let it get this far. I’ve been so good at holding back…” The last part seemed more for himself than for you, words fading into murmurs, and you wondered what he meant. Eren’s face flushed, and he immediately released you, jumping up and backing away from you. You were cold again — you hadn’t realized how much Eren had been blocking the wind from you simply by hovering above you. Now you were the one holding back a blush. 

“What can I do for more information? Is there anything, anything at all?” You stood up quickly, and grabbed Historia’s cloak from the ground to cover yourself. It was too cold to think about your supposed morality over warmth.

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out yourself, somehow.”

You were so frustrated — this man wasn’t telling you _anything_ useful. You were just getting confused, all the scraps of information you’ve been getting all day working itself into a tangled mess in your head. 

“For fuck’s sake, can you not be so vague?” You were inching closer to him again without realizing it.

Eren whistled. “So the lady can curse.” He came forward, too. It was like a dance that only the two of you knew instinctively — steps forward, steps back.

“That wasn’t the point!” You threw your arms down, annoyed at Eren’s ability to thwart answering your questions.

“Look, I’ve already told you more than you should know. Just — go back to your room and sit prettily. That’s _all_ you have to do. It’s why we brought you here.” Eren stepped back, seemingly done with the conversation.

You weren’t. “Why you brought me here?” you parroted, hoping he’d say more. 

“You don’t remember what you told Armin?” he asked curiously, thick brows furrowing.

“I do, but what does that have to do with this?”

“You told him something about selling a story. About being a best friend of the recently deceased queen. You’re here to sell that story.”

You glowered at him; stepped closer. “That was _thirteen_ brides ago. And what lunatic would think this was right, anyway? Twenty three girls before me, all dead and gone?”

“Think a little harder, Y/N. If you’re here for the story, think about what else we can convey. Besides, there hasn’t been twenty-three. You’re the ninth one.”

“Ninth…” You said; you felt your eyes bugging out of your head. It was still a large number, since it corresponded to lives — but it was much less than twenty three.

“Why the hell would I marry twenty three times?” Eren said, a childish lilt to his voice. He stepped closer — the two of you needed only to step closer a few more times before your breaths would mingle as you argued, but you were too stuck in the heat of the argument to realize.

“Why the hell would you marry nine times, then?” You retorted.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to hopefully never find out. Look, it’s been a long, long day. I’m sure you could use the rest, too. And you’re going to need to start selling the story, soon.”

“When did I ever agree to that?”

“First, when you volunteered yourself.” A step closer. 

“Second, when you came here.” A step closer. His head was leaned down to look at your face; he was so close you could smell him: something fresh and metallic at the same time. You breathed slowly as he leaned down more close enough to kiss you.

“And finally, when you married me.” His mouth was near your ears; his lips brushed against your ear and his breath ghosted at your jaw. You almost couldn’t hear him past the beat of your heart, a drum beat betraying your convictions, highlighting your weakness. You wondered how you should respond, but found that you couldn’t. You felt like a fool, and yet you still couldn’t walk away. 

Finally, you summoned your voice. “Eren—”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you today Y/N, but you looked beautiful in your wedding dress. In another world, I would’ve loved to see you walk down the aisle to take my breath away.” You stilled. “In another world, I’d love to do other things, too.” He stepped away from you, and you watched him smirk, as if pleased with himself for his arrangement of his sentences. He began to walk away.

“Good night, _wife_. I trust you’ll find your way back, somehow.” He waved without looking back. The hood of his cape was down, so you watched his dark hair dance in the wind as he walked off. He turned back once, as if to check on you, but turned forward without any other action.

You stood where you were left silently. You had too much to think about. And you needed to calm your heart beat, wait for your flush to fade. And you hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask why he had blood on his cape. 

You found your way back to room by reversing the path you and Reiner had taken; your memory was pretty good, especially since you had spent the first part of your life as an orphan wandering the streets, needing to find your way back to the orphanage easily.

The second you made it to your room, you wanted to collapse. But you didn’t want to dirty your bed, especially since you had spent a considerable amount of time pinned to the ground. _Fuck, stop thinking about it._ You put Historia’s cloak and your dress in a corner of the room, presuming someone would take it and wash it. However, before you walked into the bathroom to quickly wash, you decided to look at the cloak in more detail.

It was true. It was Historia’s. At the very bottom of the wing insignia, “Historia” had been sewn on in white thread. You gulped, wishing Eren had been wrong. You looked about the cloak, hoping Historia had left clues. There was nothing at all besides the labeled badge. You moved on to shower, disappointment clouding your thoughts. You shivered as the cold water slipped down your skin, but tried to pretend it was washing Eren’s touch away from you. Instead, the cold reminded you further of being out there in the gardens. You quickly washed and dried, before putting yourself inside a soft cotton nightdress and burying yourself under the covers. You did your best to clear your thoughts completely.

Your first day in the palace had been utterly fruitless, with more curve balls thrown at you than anything useful. But you had a plan for tomorrow. You would find Armin, and you would get information. You had to.

“Reiner, could you lead me to Armin?” you asked the next morning. You’d had breakfast delivered to you early in the morning, and you’d munched on the toast and sausages slowly, thinking of your plan to approach Armin. After figuring it out, you decided to approach Reiner to lead the way. 

“Is there a reason?” he asked. You noted he looked tired, golden eyes striking surrounded by dark circles.

“I have questions,” you said simply. “Questions only he can answer.”

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to…”

You wanted to roll your eyes, maybe even stomp your feet childishly. Could the world make anything easy for you, at all?

“Please? It’s about — being Queen. That’s all. It’s useful and important for me.”

“Alright, fine. He should be in his office, unless he’s with Hange.” He beckoned you to follow him.

“Who’s Hange?” you asked, curious, filling in conversation time as you walked to Armin’s office.

“They’re the Commander of the military at the moment. Armin’s their successor. You might meet them soon.”

“Are they anything like Captain Levi?”

At that, Reiner smiled to himself. “Hardly. Captain Levi’s like … nails and sharp knives. Hange’s more like a cuddly and smart bear.”

You laughed out loud. “A cuddly smart bear. You’re so good with descriptions, Reiner.”

“I try, I really do,” he said, smile still on his face, almost a grin at this point. “We’re here. I’ll wait outside.”

You knocked, and heard Armin’s voice instructing you to come in.

“Oh! Miss L/N. What brings you here today?” Armin asked. He was sitting at a desk neatly cluttered with books and papers. 

“Oh, call me Y/N.” You looked over the room. The entire office overall was small and homely as a result of its warm color scheme — dark plums and burgundies — with a few personal effects laying about the room besides the traditional desk and chair setup: a shelf of various books, some colorful sculptures you didn’t recognize filling empty spaces within the it of different circular arrangements, a rack holding outerwear, one of them being a green cloak that was all too familiar to you by now. You focused on the sculptures, intrigued by their arrangement. How had someone created them?

Armin traced your eyesight to the sculptures, which you were still fascinated by.

“They’re called seashells. They’re found by bodies of water,” he explained. You frowned; so it wasn’t man-made.

“Like ponds? Or streams?” You knew what they looked like, but they were usually within forests, and the only thing they were surrounded by were sharp rocks and muddy banks.

“Larger than that! So far and wide and blue, almost infinite. The sea,” he said, eyes shining brightly. He looked like a little boy proudly describing the fantastical realm he held inside his head, the strategic mastermind he had been sitting at his desk fading away and showing his actual youth. Armin should be merely nineteen or twenty, and yet he had been hardened by war. You realized the same applied to Eren, but you moved away from that as quickly as the thought came to you.

“That sounds lovely, Armin. I’ll have to see it someday, if you’ll take me.” You couldn’t summon any kind of ire or anger against Armin as you had been able to previously, having seen him in this light. Most of it was being channeled at Eren at this point.

“Of course. One day we can leave these walls.” Now, there was a tension in his voice that hadn’t been there before. 

“Well, the war is over. What’s holding us back?” you remarked light-heartedly.

“Right. Well, ah, besides that — what can I do for you?” He smiled at you graciously.

You took a deep breath. You started simply to get straight to the point. “I know I’m the ninth. What happened to the others?”

Armin’s face immediately transformed. Gone was the sweet visage you had been looking at, and here was the face of a soldier, the next commander in line. 

“We can’t talk about this now, or here,” he said. His eyes flicked towards the door. Your brows furrowed as you thought of what could be the issue. Reiner was the only possibility. Why would he be a problem?

“Where and when _can_ we talk?” you asked.

Armin didn’t have a chance to respond when the two of you heard a loud noise come from the hallway. He immediately rose to check on the commotion, and you followed.

A tall figure with strawberry brown hair was pummeling into Reiner, beating and choking him savagely. Reiner wasn’t fighting back, simply laying there and accepting the attack. You gasped, and went to intervene, as did Armin. Armin held back the assailant, and you checked in on Reiner. Blood was leaking out of his nose, and bruises were beginning to form in his right eye socket and along his throat.

“Jean, stop!” Armin yelled.

“Stop! What the fuck do you mean stop? How are you trusting this bastard? After Marco? After Annie and Bertolt?” Jean yelled, thrashing and trying to free himself from Armin’s hold. He turned his aggression back to Reiner, and spat in his direction. 

“Fuck off. Don’t show your face in front of me.” Jean freed himself from Armin’s grasp roughly, and stalked away. 

You gaped at him — he hadn’t said a word to you, but more so you hadn’t been able to talk to him and ask what he meant at all.

Armin sighed deeply. He rubbed at his forehead, massaging circles into his forehead.

“Look, Y/N, I’ll talk to you later somehow. For now, could you take Reiner to the infirmary? You’ll know it when you see it, and Reiner can help lead the way. He may be concussed, however.”

“A-alright,” you said. You helped Reiner up as he winced in pain. You walked in the direction Armin pointed you towards. 

“Y/N!” Armin called out to your back. “I forgot to tell you — foreign dignitaries will be coming by in some time. I’ll let you know as we come closer to the time. You’ll need to … paint a certain narrative with Eren.”

You simply nodded. You could use that as an excuse to see Armin again, having failed in procuring any information from him this time. And there was always Eren … you’d need to practice whatever relationship Armin wanted the two of you to flaunt, so maybe he’d reveal information to you unwillingly again.

“Alright, Y/N. Good luck.” You snorted. You needed more than luck — nothing was going your way at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's longer than my usual chapters because I realized I should spend some time working on internship applications more than writing fanfics lol so I made the chapter longer to hold you all over as the next update will probably take longer to come than usual (especially as I'm writing another wip multi-chap at the same time, which I encourage you to check out, called All The Devils wherein you grow up alongside the scouts with a titan twist). 
> 
> If you have the time to comment, please do; I truly look forward to the comments every time I post. They're literally the only thing keeping me going amidst everything going in my life, as well as overall writing insecurities and anxieties about if a chapter/the entire story is good or not. I appreciate them greatly <3 
> 
> Also, I wanted to ask if you guys think I should change the naming system from Reader [LN] to Y/N and L/N as is typical with reader fics, or if it's been fine for you so far. I use the InteractiveFics extension on chrome with reader inserts so it doesn't matter to me, but I realized that some people manually change it in their heads and it might be easier with Y/N rather than Reader for that auto translation, so let me know what you think about that. EDIT: changed everything to Y/N L/N to make it easier please let me know if you see any discrepancies with the naming
> 
> PS: I recently finished watching Bridgerton (highly highly recommend) and all I want now is a regency au for Eren LMFAO so if any of you are talented writers thinking about writing it asjlajdladl or if you see someone writing it anywhere pls let me know <3 toodles and sorry for this hella long author's note i just love to keep talking as you can see


	7. Leap of Faith

Reiner hissed in pain as the two of you hobbled your way over to the infirmary. You took note of specific context clues leading the way, observing the paintings and portraits, in case you would need to find your way over there alone. The layout of the grand palace was still quite daunting to you.

“How’s your head?” you asked Reiner, looking to him worriedly. Jean had done a number on him: blood was leaking out of the blond’s nose and cheekbone, and parts of his face were beginning to swell. But the biggest issue would be his head, from the impacts it made with the floor’s hard surface.

“Could be better,” Reiner grunted. “We’re here.”

You walked into the infirmary, Reiner clutching onto your arms and shoulders for support, as the doors were wide open. It was a modestly sized room, with large windows letting the room overflow with light. There were two rows of beds, all perfectly made with clean white linens. Cabinets filled with extra linens and most likely medicine and other supplies lined any empty spots on the walls. There was a closed door in a corner to the right.

“Hello?” you called out, hoping whoever was in charge would come out to help. 

“Ah, my apologies.” A man walked out of the door, wearing a similar outfit to Eren’s from last night, with the same wires, the only difference being that the cape was replaced with a doctor’s coat. He took a double-take at the sight of Reiner, and immediately came to extricate Reiner from your arms.

He led Reiner over to a hospital bed. Reiner laid down with his help. 

“What happened?” he asked you. “I’m Moblit Berner, I’m currently head of the infirmary.”

You nodded, providing your name, too, though Moblit seemed to be aware of your identity already. “Reiner, ah, was beat up. I’m worried he may be concussed? And of course, the obvious wounds are a problem.”

“Understood.” Moblit rose and gathered some supplies from the nearest cabinet.

“Could you hold a finger up to Reiner and bring it closer and closer to the middle of his nose?” Moblit asked. He had wiped the blood and dirt from Reiner’s face and was now dabbing at Reiner’s cuts with disinfectant. “And Reiner, tell me when you see double.”

You did as instructed, and Reiner said nothing, even when your finger was close as can be.

“Alright, that’s a good sign … his visual field is still normal.” There was quiet as you watched Moblit continue his examination, testing Reiner’s balance, whether any parts of his skull hurt upon being pressed, and some other examinations. 

After having finished examining Reiner for a concussion, and bandaging him up as necessary, Moblit gave you the okay.

“He’s battered up, but fortunately not as bad as it could have been. A good night’s sleep, and some rest today is the best solution,” Moblit said to the two of you. He passed Reiner two small pills, and a glass of water to swallow with.

“Alright, then. Reiner, feel free to rest here, or Her Highness can help you back to your quarters. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Moblit took his leave, gently smiling at the two of you.

“Well, Reiner, what do you want to do?” Reiner looked anguished, and you weren’t sure how to approach him. For some reason, things felt strained between the two of you. You ached to ask him who Annie, Marco, and Bertolt were, but you knew you needed to step carefully.

“I — I’ll head back to my room. Alone. I can walk you back to yours first, though.” You thought for a bit: go to your room and bring Reiner in with you, and question him? Or force him to let you accompany him. You decided on the latter, since he would be unable to take off for his room if he was already there.

“Reiner, I’m not letting you off alone. I’ve been concussed once before, and I didn’t think I was at all. None of Moblit’s examinations went wrong for me, then. Signs for it may show later, so I should be with you for at least a little bit longer.” You were partially lying. You’d never been concussed before, but Reissa’s father had been once and the concussion presented itself a day later than the examination. 

He was quiet, as if having an internal debate with himself. 

“Alright. But let’s go to your room. I can rest on your couches, and make my way back to mine.” You frowned, but took the opportunity to talk to him nonetheless.

The two of you walked quietly and slowly back to your room.

It was the next day. Reiner was dozing on a couch in your room, which lay between the bed and dressing area and the bathroom. You had been planning on questioning him yesterday, but a large migraine over took Reiner, or so he said. So, you recommended a rest, and he fell asleep. He still hadn’t awakened. 

You observed him from the smaller loveseat next to the couch, eating your breakfast of toast and sausages. You started with the savory first, deciding to save the sweet toast for last. He looked so much younger when he was asleep. The permanent furrows between his eyebrows lessened, and his stoic expression was relaxed into a gentle curve. His lips were slightly parted. His blond hair laid gently across the pillows, the golden yellow a stark contrast on the neutral cream colors of the couch. The entire room was an arrangement of neutrals and woods, with only you and Reiner adding variety to it. You’d once had a doll made up scraps of cloth, and it had a few scraps of buttery yellow fabric posing as hair that you frequently braided. Reiner’s hair was too short to braid, but it amused you to think of it. You huffed a laugh through your nose.

Reiner cleared his throat, and you jumped, nearly choking on a bite of sausages. You swallowed, and stopped eating. You could finish after your conversation. So Reiner wasn’t asleep. Had he ever been since you’d started watching him?

“Glad to see I’ve been a good source of entertainment for you,” he said dryly. You blushed, suddenly embarrassed. “I can see you’re dying to ask questions.”

“If you’ll answer them.” You had a hopeful lilt to your voice. Reiner had been the most accommodating of everyone you’d met so far. 

“Ask me, and we’ll see,” he said, moving to sit up. His back was hunched over, like he was carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders. 

“Tell me more about Historia and Ymir.” You wanted to start slow.

Reiner looked at you in surprise. “You don’t want to know about why Jean h-hates me?” His voice hitched. 

“Later.” For some reason, you wanted to spare his feelings, especially the more you noticed how he was reacting emotionally. The guard you had thought of as serious and stoic had slowly been fading away to a more tired, faded away man. A glimmer of the grief you had only recognized in yourself thus far flickered in his eyes. You related to him, you realized. And he, you — which was probably why he was so open to your questions.

“We all trained together. Many years ago, forever ago. Before the war ruined us.”

You interrupted, needing clarification. “We? Us?” You bit down at the pity you felt for Reiner and Eren both at his last words.

“Hmm? Oh. Just about everyone you’ve met so far that’s near our ages, like Armin. Jean. We started with training when we were basically children, just having started growing into our teen years. The war started just as our training ended, with a breach in the walls. You know how that went.” Marleyians had bombed the outermost wall, functioning as a declaration of war. It was announced to civilians that Marley sought to take Paradis’ resources, that they were an imperialist nation prejudiced against others, and that Paradis would rise above them, surely. In the end, it seemed that was correct, and everyone took comfort in the thought that Paradis was paradise. Safe. At least, until the bride killing rumors.

“Well, Erwin — King Erwin, that is, took note of Eren’s special abilities in battle, and took him in. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were a package deal, so they went, too. They were a part of the inner circle, despite being nearly fresh recruits, with Captain Levi as their leader. And soon, Historia—”

“What about you? And your friends?” You noticed Reiner avoided saying anything personal. It was a recount of facts, not memories. 

Reiner sighed deeply. “Look, let’s finish up talking about Historia and Ymir, as you asked.” You nodded, resigned.

“Soon enough, Historia joined the inner circle for some reason unknown to me. Soon after that, Eren was announced as Erwin’s successor in case of emergencies. At 18, when the war … ended, and Erwin passed in battle, he was crowned. The marriage announcements came soon after, with Historia being the first queen.”

“Do you — know how many?” 

Reiner looked at you curiously. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’m not privy to as much as you think I am. I just grew up alongside them, and because of that I’ve been near them for longer than anticipated.” Reiner blinked furiously, and then in a stammer, added: “That is, I mean, ah, past training.”

“What about Ymir? Why’s she the 2nd queen?” 

He shrugged. “Like I said, I can’t know for sure. I assume … she wanted answers. Maybe some kind of revenge. She and Historia had been close.” You felt a kinship with Ymir. Her probable reasoning for being with Eren was so similar to yours.

“How close?”

“The closest. Annie hadn’t believed that Historia’d ever agree to marry Eren like that, since she had Ymir. I don’t know what she meant by that.” Reiner looked off to a spot on the wall, seemingly absorbed in the memory of talking with Annie. 

“Maybe she was hinting that Ymir and Historia were more than friends?” you said wryly. You wondered why Historia would ever agree if that had been the case.

Reiner gaped, and let out a gasp of understanding. “Fuck. That makes so much sense. Annie never explained what she meant.” 

“And Annie? Where does she fit into this? Jean had mentioned her…” you said, trailing off as you remembered why Annie’s name itched at a spot in your brain.

Reiner immediately transformed in front of your very eyes. Gone was the honest and tired boy in front of you who had been shocked by a simple revelation. Here was a hardened warrior. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and the sharp lines of his jawbone were accentuated by him clenching his jaw. 

“Annie was the bride before you.” You suddenly felt the ghost of Annie’s presence all around you. You pictured a girl sleeping in your bed, wearing your clothes, sitting on the very sofa set you were on. You wanted to slap yourself for having thought of all of this as _yours_ in the first place. This room was a museum, commemorating the lives of every woman who now lay dead six feet under. And you were next in line.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you began, judging from Reiner’s voice just how close he might’ve been to the woman.

Reiner snorted, and you flinched at the unexpected reaction. “Annie isn’t dead. She’s still alive.”

The food you'd just eaten felt like a swirling mess inside your stomach as a dull nausea overtook you. Alive? As in, not dead? The opposite of Reissa? Breathing? You struggled to comprehend, feeling a sort of emotional whiplash from disgust and grief giving way to utter confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘she’s alive’?” you said, incredulity dripping off your voice.

“Just that—”

The doors to your bedroom flew open. You and Reiner turned to the source of the sudden interruption. It was Eren. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, making the green of it more pronounced, and his hair was ruffled about his face wildly, like he’d just gotten out of bed. Somehow, he still looked handsome, you thought unwillingly. He sat next to you on the loveseat, his thigh pressing against yours. You stiffened at the contact. The smell of alcohol drifted into your senses.

“Day-drinking?” you said, wrinkling your nose. “How very _kingly._ ” You didn’t hide the bite in your voice. Of course he had to come by just as you had been given yet another piece of vital, yet incomplete, information.

“Not as bad as what you’re doing,” Eren said, contempt dripping in his tone. “Cheating on me already, wife?”

Your jaw dropped at Eren’s nerve and Reiner blushed, red blotches spreading on his cheeks. Eren turned to Reiner.

“Shouldn’t you be out there? Guarding, or whatever it is you’re assigned to do?” You bristled on behalf of Reiner.

“I was _talking_ to him. That’s it. The way civilized people do, as you seem to be unaware. Why are you insulting him? Picking a fight?” No one but Eren could rile you up like this.

“ _I’m_ certainly not the one always picking fights here. Just reminding Braun why he’s here. You’re the one acting up,” Eren said childishly, pointing at you with his index finger. ”It’s like you want to take a bite out of me.”

“Oh, you fucking wish I would, don't you?” you said, standing over him. Eren smirked up at you, pleased at your reaction. Reiner stepped between the two of you, trying to prevent a possible fight, and grabbed your arm to pull you back. Eren slapped Reiner’s hand off you, which only incited you further. You wondered if it was you or Reiner who was pushing Eren’s buttons more. You grabbed Reiner’s hand, seeking to run away.

“Let’s go, Reiner. You need rest, and clearly His Highness doesn’t have any intent of providing that for you.” You walked off, pulling Reiner behind you, hands tightly gripping his, without staying back to hear what Eren had come all the way here for. Honestly, he could’ve been there to tell you everything, and you still wouldn’t have stayed. He was insufferable. 

“Um. Y/N. Do you have any idea where you’re walking to?” Reiner said as you briskly walked, close to an ear run. You groaned, realizing how impulsive you’d just been. And then you realized you were still holding Reiner’s hand. You dropped it like it was a hot iron.

“I’m sorry. I just — Eren, he — ugh!” 

Reiner began laughing, a loud booming sound pouring out of him. Your ire at Eren became directed at Reiner. Reiner began leading the way somewhere, presumably to his room.

“Why’re you laughing? He just insulted you!”

“Nothing new,” Reiner said, hints of mirth still in his tone. Here was another side to Reiner: not defeated and tired, not invincible and hardened, but human. “We haven’t gotten along for a while, which is funny because he used to look up to me.”

“Oh, really?” You had trouble imagining Eren having a role model. He was a darker version of Reiner, sharper around the edges, with childish bravado covering up some kind of ruthless persistence to get whatever he wanted. Whether that meant a win in war, or to get a rise out of you like you were his plaything. Reiner, as far as you could see, was a troubled soldier with occasional moments of warmth. Like the time he comforted you in the garden, like when he burst out laughing now. 

The two of you reached his room, and you entered. The room was sparsely decorated, and much smaller than yours, with just a bed, a large drawer, and a desk and chair set. You sat on the bed and Reiner dragged over the chair to sit near you.

“Yeah. It might be harder for you to see, but Eren was once a completely different person. I haven’t seen signs of that since, well, now, when the two of you were bickering. Which is why I’m laughing. It was endlessly hilarious, to see glimpses of his old self coming out now, especially with that long hair of his. A little bit sad, too.” Reiner turned contemplative. 

You put a hand on Reiner’s shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Reiner. I’m sorry to bring up bad memories, but could you tell me more about — everything? You were talking to me about Annie.” 

“I-I … I’m sorry, Y/N. I overstepped. You shouldn’t know about Annie, and I shouldn’t have been the one to say anything. Just — maybe I’ll be able to tell you more eventually. But I can’t right now.”

“Please,” you said, begging. You squeezed his shoulder, trying to nonverbally signal your need to know more. This was the closest you could get to more information.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Reiner said, after a pause. You withdrew your hand, feeling awkward about the prolonged physical contact. “I just can’t endanger … myself.”

“Or your friends,” you said intuitively. Reiner hesitated, then nodded.

“But, listen: you have to promise me not to bring up Annie, or my involvement with your knowledge at all.”

You nodded. “I promise. I won’t say anything.” You weren’t lying; you owed Reiner at least this much. He was the closest to someone you could trust here. You thought to yourself that perhaps Reissa would have liked him, too, for his honesty and openness towards you.

“Alright. When I’m finally able to tell you things — I swear I will.”

“What about Bertolt? Marco?” you asked, remembering the other names Jean had said. “And Jean — you never explained why he hurt you.”

Reiner’s eyes dulled as you mentioned those names, each name resulting in a further decrease in the brightness of his eyes. “These are the things I can’t tell you yet. I have to ask Ze — I need to check in with my friends first.” There was a quiet moment between the two of you.

“Why are you trusting me with this information?” you asked, curious. He was telling you so much, and was planning to tell you more sensitive information later, too.

Reiner blinked. Paused, hesitating to answer. “You hate Eren,” he said, finally.

You blanched. Well, some kind of animosity had been pretty obvious, even if you weren’t sure just _how_ much you hated Eren. But why was that the deciding factor? You thought for moments, finally realizing the reason.

“And … do you?” you asked, delaying your words.

Reiner wavered: a multitude of emotions crossed over his face, so much and so fast that you struggled to assign a definition or a value to how he seemed to feel. Besides the obvious, that he was conflicted.

“It’s complicated. I do, and I don’t. Part of the hate is fear, too.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. What would someone like Reiner have to fear from Eren? “Fear?”

“Fear,” he repeated. “Of what he’ll do, of what he can do.”

You mulled over his words. In a way, you realized you, too, were scared of Eren. He was clearly an accomplished soldier, enough to become King. The _Blood_ King, nonetheless. Erwin had demolished the passing of the role via bloodlines, so that said something about Eren, too, that humanity’s greatest commander yet had chosen him. And the fact that at any time Eren wished, he could end your life. All of your efforts would have been for naught. In front of him, you disguised the presence of that fear with a fiery bravado. It was easy to, especially since Eren matched your energy. You often lost yourself in a need to fuel Eren’s fire so that he would fuel yours when the two of you collided. You buried any worries that Eren could bite as much as he could bark.

“I think … it’s the same for me. And a kind of anger, too. I do blame him for Reissa,” you said.

“And I blame him for Annie.” He mumbled something else to himself you didn’t catch. You didn’t ask him to repeat it, guessing it was more private to him.

“We’re in the same situation, then.”

He nodded. “Mutual understanding. And — I’m beginning to trust you. Am I safe, trusting you?”

You didn’t hesitate. Not now that you knew that Reiner would be a support for you. “Yes. Long as I can trust you, too.”

“Alright. We’re a team, then.” 

“Can I do anything in the meantime?” you asked, needing to give him something in return for his help.

“Nothing yet. Though, if you can get more information about Annie, without revealing just how much you know … that would mean a lot to me.” 

“I’ll try my best, Reiner.” You stood up, preparing to return to your room and checking if Eren was gone. You were glad to have a new, tangible objective. Besides simply wanting information. And wanting Eren. _To kill him,_ _that is,_ you reminded yourself.

As you walked out, Reiner spoke. You hung back to listen. “Be careful with Eren. He’s much more capable than you’re assuming. He might joke around and be sarcastic with you — but remember he’s a seasoned killer. In a variety of ways.”

You swallowed. The Eren who had called you beautiful that night in the gardens … a killer. It was a fact. And you needed to remind yourself time and time again. “I know.” 

You walked back to your room. Eren was nowhere to be found — but he’d finished up the rest of your breakfast. You scowled, thinking of the sweet toast you’d saved for last, and then noticed he’d scrawled a note next to the empty plate.

 _Sorry, love. I’ve got a sweet tooth. I’ll see you tonight. Looking forward to it ;)_ You had an urge to rip the note up, especially incensed by the drawn on winking face. Instead, you folded it. Unsure of where to put it, you tucked it in with the bottle of pills you hid in the curtains. You wondered why you’d be seeing him tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! :) Eren wasn't supposed to be in this chapter but I couldn't help it lol
> 
> Looking forward to your comments! (Also, just wanted to let you know that I've got another new aot reader fic lol it's a modern AU where you and Eren are spending your honeymoons together, though not in the conventional after wedding way. It's called Honeymooners, and you can access it and my other stories by clicking on my profile.) Thank you so much for continuing to support me by reading, kudos-ing, and commenting. I adore you all <3


	8. Explosive, Incendiary

_You wondered why you’d be seeing Eren tonight._

You found out shortly after, when Mikasa came to inform you.

“Hello,” she began politely. “Armin asked me to let you know that you and Eren are to meet him in his office after dinner. I think it’s got something to do with the foreign diplomats, a dress fitting and rehearsal.”

You had an urge to grimace, but didn’t want Mikasa to think your bad temper was directed at her. “Alright, thank you Mikasa. I’ll see you there, too?”

She nodded. You remembered that she was Eren’s personal guard. You wondered why she hadn’t been around whenever you’d seen Eren the other times, and so you took the chance to ask. After all, most of the information you’d gathered so far had been a result of your direct action.

Mikasa frowned. “I—I try to be with him as long as he’ll let me.” You frowned, too. It was clear that Mikasa cared for Eren very deeply, and that he didn’t seem to hold the same regard for her. You felt sorry for the girl, but you still tucked the information into the file in your head centered around Eren; it would be good ammunition to use against him. But, then you wondered just how deep Mikasa’s feelings ran.

“Mikasa,” you began. “Do you l-like Eren?” You had no idea why your voice shook when asking.

Mikasa’s frown flattened; in fact, the corner of her lip was threatening to curve upwards. “Why’re you asking?” 

You blinked several times, unable to think of a response. “Call it curiosity,” you finally said. 

Mikasa huffed out a laugh, and ruffled her short hair. “I did once. Before Eren made it clear how he saw me — that he could never see me the way I wanted him to. I do love him, and I’ll protect him till my dying days. Just not romantically. Anymore.” 

You took in her confession. You wondered how Eren would retell this story, if perhaps Mikasa was missing something. Maybe Eren was protecting his feelings for her, in a misguided attempt to protect Mikasa herself. The thought made your bristle with an unknown emotion: why would Eren tease you so if he felt that way about Mikasa? And so you crossed out the possibility. 

“Why do you care about Eren so much, anyway?” 

“He saved me.” The statement was simple, and Mikasa provided no further elaboration. 

“From what?” you asked. What could Mikasa possibly need saving from? She looked stronger than Reiner; long and lean and muscular. 

Mikasa shrugged. “I’ll tell you another day, Your Highness. But I must get going. I’ll see you later with Armin and Eren.” You nodded a goodbye.

Once Mikasa left, you closed the door and sank to the floor slowly. Not out of anguish, but of a frustration that made you want to rip your hair out. You sighed loudly, trying to express your frustration somehow. Both Armin and Eren would be near, and while it would be a golden opportunity for information, you knew that you’d be taken up by Eren’s frustrating nature. You rolled your eyes, already thinking of how the two of you would interact. 

It would be— 

“Fucking explosive,” Eren said, snarling at you. “Why is that every time I talk to you, all you do is blow things out of proportion?” 

“Me?” you asked, eyes bugging out of your head. “I’m hardly the one who said that I’d look better _without_ the dress. _You're_ the incendiary one! Have you no regards for common fucking _decency_?” 

Eren smirked as an answer and you had the urge to throttle him. You probably would’ve, if you hadn’t already traumatized the poor dressmaker with your dirty mouth and vaguely detailed threats of murder. Though the dressmaker wasn’t holding back with the pins, spiking you with every extra “fuck” Eren brought of you. You hoped Eren’s tailor was being equally as violent when Eren cursed.

Armin sighed deeply, pinching his nose between his thumb and index finger in exasperation. 

“Could the both of you be quiet _?_ I haven’t even begun briefing you yet and you’re already bickering. This can’t continue. The two of you are _supposed_ to be in love.” Armin wasn’t yelling, but his tone was loud and sharp enough you could tell that he was nearing his limit of toleration. 

Armin spoke to the dressmakers next, tone soft and gentle. “I’m so very sorry for their behavior.” Eren’s tailor grunted in response, since his mouth was precariously holding onto pins. Yours held her pins in a pincushion, so she was able to respond.

“It’s alright,” she said in a strained voice. _Prick._ You held back a yelp of pain. She wasn’t holding back her ire, but if she pricked you one more time, you were going to say something. “All married couples have fights, and Our Highnesses seem to be particularly spirited, His Highness most of all.” 

She turned to you. “But, _you,”_ she spat, “Need to know that you should be more ladylike.”

You opened your mouth to give her a piece of your mind, and to shove her “ladylike” ideals somewhere the sun didn’t shine, but Eren spoke before you.

In a harsh voice, sharp as a knife, sharp as the _pins_ you'd been stabbed with, he said: “I can assure you, I love my queen whether or not she is 'ladylike', as you put it. I'm rather fond of her fiery spirit. In fact, I’d prefer if the two of you left now. You will be compensated accordingly, even if you've overstepped your bounds.” 

Armin looked tired, but didn’t say anything to contest Eren's decision. He moved to the sitting area on the other side of the fitting room, noting something into a notebook. The tailors undid the fitting robes, and said something about sending over the final project. Your dressmaker even apologized to you, red flush burning on her cheeks. Once they left, you were unsure what to say to Eren. You stood stiffly as if you were still being fitted for your evening dress.

“I didn’t need defending,” you said quietly, burning with a sort of shame you couldn’t define. Like you had failed in defending your honor, like you had to accept help from your worst enemy.

Eren shrugged, for once not retorting back, and stepped off the fitting dais he’d been standing on. He moved to sit on the chaise across from Armin, laying down and throwing his long limbs over the edge, staring at the ceiling. His long dark hair pooled across the green fabric, a color you noted was a dulled version of the tone of his eyes. 

You followed a few seconds after, and sat on a blue-green barrel chair, made for one person, its upholstery oddly resembling the folds of a tulip. Its vantage point allowed for you to observe Armin and Eren at once. The fitting room’s color theme was of greens and blues of varying shades. Armin sat on a longer couch with papers surrounding him, littered next to him and on the table in between him and Eren’s respective seating. He was still writing into a notebook. You noted that the notebook was thick, bound with a beige leather and embossed with gold foiling at the edges.

“Alright,” Armin said, closing his book quietly, and setting it beside him. You followed the motion of the book, wondering if Armin treated the book as a journal of sorts. You would need to sneak a peek at it eventually. It would give you information Armin wasn’t giving to you willingly. 

“Hurry up, Armin,” Eren said childishly, folding his arms across his chest. He was still tracing patterns on the ceiling. You looked up yourself to see what was so interesting, and noted that there was a mural of sorts on the ceiling of the forest, of tall green pines and short blue wildflowers. Very in tune with the room’s color scheme. 

You looked back at Armin just in time to see him roll his eyes. “Eren, I cleared you of your duties for today. You have nowhere to go, so no hurry.” 

Eren snorted. “Yeah, but I’d rather spend my day with people who _want_ my company. Not with — oh, go on, Y/N, I’m not even looking at you and I can see you want to say something.”

You smirked. “I actually don't.” You wanted to avoid quarreling with him, for now. A small token of gratitude, even if his “saving” of you had been unwarranted. Eren craned his head up to glare at you despite that, glare softening when he saw your non-antagonistic expression. He looked surprised instead.

“Look, you two, let’s move on from your, ah, what did you two say? Your _explosive, incendiary_ dynamic. We need to focus on what story to sell,” Armin said as Eren lowered his head back down. 

“I thought you already had it figured out,” you said. Eren had mentioned in the gardens your true purpose for being chosen as the 23rd — or rather, 9th bride. So you figured that the story was already set in stone.

Armin nodded. “I do, but I figured out a story you create will be more memorable. Organic and easy to keep going. We can’t risk a misstep — the dignitaries have probably had their fair share of manipulation by now and we can’t risk them seeing through us.”

“Could you explain to me why we need to impress them so much?” you asked. Paradis had been a lone bird flying alone for its entire known history, given its walled exterior, until Marley had attacked out of the blue. And even after that, Paradis had won the war. What was the use of sniveling and pandering and lying to please others?

Armin swallowed tightly. “It’s complicated. But, long story short, we need their technology. And they somehow caught wind of the bride killing rumors—”

“Not rumors if they’re true,” you said, tone acidic. 

“— so we need to prove that Eren is mentally sane,” Armin said, ignoring you. 

You ached to say that it would be hard to do _that_ , but you kept true to your promise of not instigating anything directly against Eren. 

“And how do you plan to do that?” Eren asked, tone bored. “They won’t forget the rumors even if I stick my tongue down Y/N’s throat.” 

You flushed at the imagery his words conjured. _Cut it out, brain,_ you thought, desperately trying to wash out the image of Eren's mouth against yours ... his tongue brushing against yours ... his fingers around your neck — _oh , shut it!_

“Which is precisely why we need to sell a good, _specific_ story that dispels anything too dramatic,” Armin said, leaning forward, helping to dispel your thoughts. “Any ideas? Or we can just go with what I have.”

“What _do_ you have?” you asked, curious. Armin was known to be intelligent and astute; you wanted to get a measure of that.

“Well, the main story I have is that Reissa was Eren’s first bride. She died of an incurable illness, and you and Eren grieved together, and fell in love,” Armin said, tone devoid of any emotion. It was clinical, a story created to tamp down rumors and convince the public of your relationship’s legitimacy.

Your throat closed up and your eyes burned. It _was_ a reasonable, logical story — but it lacked any kind of emotion that _you’d_ be able to convey. Reissa had been your entire world. Your best friend. Your sister, your found family. You couldn't play any part of this story Armin had created. You again felt the immense grief you’d felt so long ago, with Reiner beside you. Only Reiner wasn’t here to comfort you; he and Mikasa were probably outside by the doors. 

To your surprise, Eren spoke up on your behalf. Again. 

“Armin,” he began slowly. “I don’t think we should go that angle. We should stick closer to the truth.” You blinked away any tears that were beginning to form. 

“What? That she positively wants to rip you apart, that you’re a pup—” Armin held himself back. He sighed, frustrated. “What’re you suggesting?”

Eren sat up, swiveling his legs around. He glanced at you for a moment. You clenched your jaw, unsure what he was seeing. 

“Like I said, close to the truth. Reissa died. We kept the details to ourselves, for fear of, I don’t know, unrest? The newly crowned king with his newly wedded wife, widowed? That wouldn’t be the story of a nation who just _won_ a war.” Eren paused, taking time to compose himself. You noted that he, too, was taken by some kind of emotion, something like grief and regret. 

You chose this moment to rescue him as he had you before. “I agree. That works as a background. We can say that I came to the palace to uncover the truth, intent on bringing justice for Reissa.” 

Armin’s eyes were alight. He completed the story for you and Eren. “And the two of you fell in love! Enemies to lovers!”

You smiled wryly, Armin’s excitement contagious, but your previous darker emotions still lingering like a cloud over you. “Precisely.”

Eren nodded. He looked over at you again. “Yeah. That was what I was going for, too.” 

Armin stood up. He began clearing his papers into neat stacks, and pressed the stack of them plus his journal against his chest. “Wonderful progress we made today! I’ll hammer out some more details, maybe figure out some timeline related things, and have the maids send it to you with your dinners.”

You looked away from Eren to Armin, and nodded mutely.

“And the two of you will need to practice,” Armin said. 

You wrinkled your nose. “Practice?”

Eren huffed out a dry laugh. “You might be a beauty, but you’re sounding thick in the head. Practice how to be lovers, not enemies.”

Your throat dried, and you hated yourself for the reaction. Why was it that anytime Eren called you beautiful, you reacted like this? Your knees went weak, breath went short, brain short circuited. 

Armin nodded furiously, his blond bangs shaking. “Please, for the love of god. No more cursing. No more murderous looks. All I want to see is honeyed gazes and gentle touches.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Honeyed gazes? Armin, you’ve surely taken that straight out of a romance book.”

Armin flushed, the tip of his nose becoming an adorable red button. “What I read for entertainment doesn’t matter. What matters is that you and Eren get your acts together, before you sink all of Paradis. We _need_ these people to fall for the story. _Please._ If you care about Paradis at all, try your best.”

You sighed, resigned. “Alright, Armin. But only if you’ll talk to me afterwards. About what I asked for last time, and more.” You needed to make good on your promise to Reiner, and Armin had already said he’d talk to you personally and privately to disclose more information to you.

“Alright, fine. We have a deal. The two of you have a successful night, and you’ll get to ask me questions,” Armin said. You nodded, accepting his terms. He prepared to leave.

“And what about me?” Eren asked, folding his right leg up to rest his chin on his knee demurely. “What do I get out of this?” You knew he was teasing by the glint in his eyes.

You answered before Armin could take him seriously. “Why, the lovely pleasure of my company.” 

Eren whistled. “I’m all in, then.” Armin shook his head, finally realizing that Eren was teasing you and not being serious about his statement, and continued walking out.

Just as Armin closed the door behind him, he gave one last command. “The two of you should practice here tonight. There’s wide enough space for you to try dancing, and I’ll have dinner prepared and sent over here. I’ll even dismiss Mikasa and Reiner for privacy.”

There was no room in his voice for arguments, but you still wanted to quickly disagree. Instead, Eren stood up and blocked Armin’s view of you by standing in front of you, meaning that Armin couldn't see you preparing to talk. 

“Alright, alright, Armin, see you later!” Eren said, voice booming. Once Armin left, he turned to you, lips curved into a devious smile.

“Now, shall we get started?” 

You groaned. You were in for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how I have a chapter by chapter outline and these characters don't follow my plans LMAO I know I'm writing this but I swear they all take lives and directions of their own so much that I have to re-outline every chapter to adjust my plans. 
> 
> Thank you in advance for your comments questions concerns etc :) I recently realized I had no visibility for my [tumblr](https://jae-ren.tumblr.com/) so I'm linking it now that I've properly fixed it. Requests/asks are open! (Also if you're looking for a fun smutty oneshot, I wrote one of an artist!Eren with a model!Reader so go check that out!)


	9. Practice Makes Perfect

After Armin had left, around ten minutes passed as you and Eren sat together quietly. Well, you were quiet — Eren couldn’t stay still. For a few moments, he’d been relaxed, sitting on his chair, but then he took to treating the room like an obstacle course, jumping all over the seating area and tables. He landed perfectly each time, though he’d fallen and rolled like a ball once. 

“What does practicing a relationship even mean?” you asked, finally speaking. You watched as he hopped off one green couch to land on the tulip barrel chair you’d been sitting on earlier. “And could you be any more childish?”

Eren snorted, and hopped back to the green couch. “Keeps me busy.” He ignored your first question.

You frowned. “Who would’ve thought … our  _ Blood King _ bouncing on mere couches.”

Eren lept off the couch, landing on the dark wood floor like an elegant cat. He stalked towards you, strands of brown hair flowing behind him. 

“I always hated that name. Figures the girl who hates me most would use it to my face,” he spat as he passed you. You stood staring at the spot where he’d been blankly as he, instead of physically approaching you like you’d expected him to glower at your face, he walked away from you and towards the empty dress forms.

Scowling, you moved closer to Eren, needing to look at him to talk to him. “Why hate the name when you clearly deserve it? It’s not without reason to call a seasoned war criminal a bloo—”

Eren had kicked at the male dress form, long legs poised to destroy. The mannequin toppled to the ground, the sound interrupting your words. You didn’t continue, just watched him stand over it with an unreadable expression on his face. You tried to decode the arch of his brows, wrinkling together; the pout of his lips, trembling; the way his eyes were lidded as he looked down, dark lashes hiding the secrets within. You were at a loss. You found yourself reaching out for him, a purely human desire to comfort — but you brought back your hand just in the nick of time, as after the moments you’d taken to observe him had passed, Eren turned his head around to face you, eyes carving into yours. 

“Do you think I wanted to?” His words were quiet, like it was a pebble dropped into a vast lake, heard once if you strained your ears, but never again once swallowed.

You were struck by the deep depths of loss and darkness filling his green irises. Pure anguish. Your own heart clenched tightly, as if you were the one feeling that way.

Eren stepped away from the mannequin and closer to you, something desperate gleaming in his eyes now, too. “Well? Do you?”

“I-I …” you were struck dumb, unable to think. You knew that if this had been the first conversation the two of you had had, saying  _ yes _ would have been as instinctive as breathing. But now, things had irreversibly changed somehow. Why, you couldn’t tell. Just that it had, mere moments building up to form something akin to  _ empathy _ for your  _ enemy.  _ _ I’m a joke _ , you thought, still unable to form words.

At your silence, Eren appeared disappointed. He whipped away from you, moving to furiously put the dress form up. You heard him clear his throat.

“Okay, let’s practice. Forget I asked you that. Let’s start with the—” 

“Wait!” you said, wanting to say something. Not to comfort him — that would be too much — but to tell him the truth of what you thought about his question. That, perhaps, if you could force yourself to admit it: he did what he did by necessity, not want. You might’ve hated him, on the account of losing your best friend, but you weren’t soulless enough to not recognize the weight of the war pushing down on the boy. The boy turned man — twenty was but the beginning of his life, and he’d been in war much longer than he’d had the chance to be a child, a boy. His coming into adulthood was more a sign of everything he had lost than anything he had gained.

“It doesn’t matter, I was only — only curious,” Eren said smoothly. His mask was back on, you could tell. He slid his fingers through his hair. Despite that, small strands rested over his forehead and eyebrows. “We have a job to do, and it’s fooling the fuckers attending this godforsaken ball.”

You decided not to push on the subject. Maybe another day. So you moved onto the next pressing concern. “Ball?” you asked. You had assumed you’d been dressing up for a fancy dinner, a small party at most … but a ball?

“Yeah,” Eren said. “Why do you think you’re wearing a custom made gown for? It’s just another play for the narrative of paradise in Paradis.” 

“Paradise in Paradis,” you mumbled, chewing on the words. “I gather anywhere but here’s paradise.”

Eren shrugged. “Nowhere’s paradise. This is just home, and we’ve got to protect it. If it means we have to fake a relationship — believe me, that’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.” His eyes briefly darkened, and his posture stiffened. Then he instantaneously loosened, and looked to you for your next move.

You were surprised by Eren’s statements. You bit your lips, thinking, before finally making a decision. “Alright. Let’s get started.” You thought for a few moments, trying to figure out how to start.

You decided to start at the beginning, post your entrance. You moved towards Eren, and extended your hand to him. 

“What’s this?” He looked at it confusedly, apprehensively, like you’d extend you’d claw him with poison nail tips.

“You should take it, and lean down to kiss it,” you said pragmatically. “I’ll most likely enter later than you, and it'll be a sign of respect and adoration.”

“Okay, milady,” Eren said, a touch of mirth in his voice. He did as you said, lips brushing against your fingers. “My queen, Y/N L/N.” 

You watched as he gently rose upwards, keeping a hand on yours. He used it to pull you close to him, so you were standing near at a right angle, shoulders brushing his chest.

“I — what’s this for?”

Eren grinned. “We’re married and in love. You should be so close to that it’s  _ almost _ inappropriate.” 

You snatched your hand away, and shoved him. You tried to put some distance between the two of you. Your face was as hot as a flame.

And Eren was the moth, drawn to you. He came close to you again, “Ah, ah, ah!” He taunted. “Can’t be violent here love.” He snatched your hand back, and pulled you close again. His grip was vice like, but even so this time you held your breath waiting for his next move instead of pushing him away. 

“Anyway,” Eren said, swallowing. “Next, I introduce you to the most important guests.” He put a hand at the small of your back, pressing into the indentation lightly. He led you to the female dance form.

He bowed deeply, and with his fingers still holding you, he brought you down at his pace: slow and steady. The two of you rose. 

“Who’s this supposed to be?” you asked. You realized you were clueless about those you were supposed to be schmoozing with. 

“Probably Kiyomi Azumabito. Ambassador to Hizuru,” he said. “She’s already close to siding with us — the rumors of the bride killings are a temporary thorn in my side, though. She’d appreciate the love story, too. So if you get all flustered, that works.”

You snorted. “No. You’re wrong. I think she’d appreciate a stronger female lead. No woman wants to see a simpering fool in a role of power.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So what do you suggest?” 

“ _ You _ play the flustered king. Unable to believe you’ve got me by your side.” It made logical sense, too. In the story you’d concocted, he’d need to be the one to fall first, fall deeply, to sway you. 

“Alright, can do. Though I’m sure she’d be wondering why a beautiful girl such as yourself chose to fall for your best friend’s widow. It would make more sense for you to be with Reiner.” he said dryly.

“You’re right,” you said, sighing. Eren’s right eye twitched; his jaw tightened, sharp edge becoming more prominent. You didn’t pay mind to that reaction, thinking of all your interactions with Eren … how despite how hard you tried, he was annoyingly worming himself into your brain, and you supposed your heart. It was  _ nothing _ close to love — but it was a far cry from the raging hate you had felt prior to coming here. But you realized the change had been in your objectives: from the instantaneous gratifying feeling of killing your best friend’s supposed murderer to the clarifying weight leaving your shoulders once you learned more about how this all came to be.

“That’s it!” you said. It was clear to you how to paint this story now. “It’s learning that our first impressions were wron — not the complete truth.”

“No, no, go on. I believe you were admitting you were wrong?” Eren smirked.

“Oh, shut it! You need to stop with your teasing comebacks!”

“Only if you stop responding so well, love.” He froze; you did, too. Then he continued, as if he’d said nothing. You had no energy to prod him on that, and so you pretended, too. “How do we explain that in love-story phrasing, though?”

“Let’s see … I came here for the truth, of what happened to my best friend. My only family. You wouldn’t give it to me, for fear of causing me grief, but that only furthered my drive to find out. And so … we had to spend time and time together, pushing and pulling.”

Eren whistled. “Ironic. It’s so close to the truth that it’s perfect.”

“Yes, and that push-pull dynamic resulted with me making a new family. With you! Found family and all that. I can get some fun facts from Armin and Mikasa, Reiner, too, to show my, er, friendships with everyone. Heart warming, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that works.” Eren had closed himself off at the mention of Reiner. You rolled your eyes.

“You know, you can stop with your jealousy. ‘S not like we’re really together. I’m free to be with whoever I want, and it could be Rein—” Eren hushed you, putting a finger to your lips.

“Let’s dance.” He offered his hand to you in the formal position. “We still have to practice our dance dynamics. If you hate being so close to me, the dance part will ruin it.”

“B-but do we have to dance? It’s not a requir—”

He interrupted you again. “It’s a ball. Of course there’ll be dancing. I bet Armin will even put you into dance classes for it. You won’t need it, if I teach you right now.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And who’s to say that I’ll learn so quickly?”

He shrugged. “I get the sense that you’re a fast learner. Are you so sure you want to prove me wrong?”

You scowled. “Fine.” You took his hand, which he’d kept outreached this entire time.

“Okay. We can get away with a simple waltz, once at the start, paving the way for others. Customary king and queen bullshit, and most nations attending take pride in their monarchy traditions.” 

“And not you?” you asked, questioning.

“Heh.” He laughed dryly. “I’m sure it’s easy to guess how much I hate this bullshit. I wish Erwin had never — well that doesn’t concern you.” 

You pursed your lips. “Why does everyone decide that for me? What does and doesn’t concern  _ me?” _

“I always give you more information than necessary, but this is one thing I’m not budging on. Stop distracting me, and let’s waltz.”

You stomped your foot on Eren’s, who didn’t react, only looked at you with a twinkle in your eye. “Alright! Fine! I’ll ask Armin later, then.”

“ _ Armin _ was the one who had me learn this. A waltz is relatively simple, a rise and fall motion repeated in tune with the music.” Eren led you into a smooth, graceful movement: consisting of a step forward or backward, a step to the side, and a step to close his feet together. 

“Slow, quick, quick. Slow, quick, quick,” Eren said. You repeated the mantra in your head, matching it to your steps. You were surprised at how easy it was to pick up, perhaps because Eren was confidently leading you. 

“How did you learn this?” you asked. Eren had moved gracefully with his ODM equipment that night in the gardens, and he’d been successful with his couch jumping, too — but the gracefulness was something that seemed practice. Learned, out of need and not a natural gift.

He sighed. “Lots and lots of practice. That I despised, of course. But, uh, practice helps, and some other little things.”

“Like?” you prodded.

He grinned mischievously. “A little bit of magic, of course.” You tilted your head to the side, taking it seriously. Part of the rumors surrounding his so-called Blood King character involved him selling his soul to the devil in exchange for a scrap of power, in exchange for  _ magic _ . It had been the only part of the rumors you’d ignored, given its improbable possibility, even if you’d use it as an insulting factor before coming to the palace. The technology Paradis created was reasonable, since science powered it — but magic? That was only the stuff of fairytales to you now.

“Um, the rumors — said something about magic. Arcane magic.”

His grip on you stiffened. “Really? Wonder how we’ll squash that. I was only joking, of course. Repetition and practice, at the threat of Armin and Levi’s commands, is the only magic involved.”

“Captain Levi,” you found yourself correcting.

Eren smirked. “He won’t mind. I’m king, am I not?”

“I suppose,” you said. 

The two of you spun around in natural rhythms over the course of minutes or hours. Who knew, honestly… All you knew was that your thoughts were blank; your heart was beating steadily in Eren’s presence for once; a calm feeling of predictable motion was rooting you to the present moment.

“Y’know,” Eren began, “Simply dancing isn’t going to cut it.”

You frowned, needing elaboration, which he quickly provided. “You’ve picked up the dance well, but it’ll be monotonous to watch us just twirl around everywhere.”

“Alright, what did you have in mind?”

Eren leaned down to your ears. “Sweet nothings, of course,” he whispered. His tongue flicked out. You felt the wet brush of his tongue on the cartilage of your ear, and you shivered before you had the sense to pull yourself away. 

“What was that for?!” Your heart had resumed its chaotic beating again.

Eren chuckled. “To make things fun. I don’t get a lot of that, but with you — it’s hilarious.”

“You fucking tosser,” you hissed, rolling your eyes. “I’m not a  _ plaything. _ ”

“Never said that, Y/N. I  _ did _ catch the way you reacted, though.” He imitated your shiver, closing his eyes and shaking his upper body. Your face heated up. “My touch affects you whether you like it or not.” Eren stepped closer to you, and slid your hair to behind your shoulders, calloused fingertips catching on the smooth skin of your collarbones. “Such soft skin…”

You swallowed tightly, making a split second decision between pushing him away and effectively ending your “practice” … or to keep it going. For practice, of course, but also to get back at him. You sidled yourself closer, too, and even tilted your neck to give him access. The point of his thin nose pressed into the junction between your neck and shoulder, creating reactions within you that you couldn’t stop to decipher. You pushed forward, and tiled Eren’s face out by his chin. 

“You think if they saw this, our ruse would be believable?” You pushed strands of his silky hair out of his face, trying in vain to tuck them behind the shells of his ears. They stubbornly fell back where they were, so you took to arranging them instead. You fiddled with the short strands as he spoke, and pressed your fingers over his arched eyebrows, marveling at their thickness. You were exploring the planes of his face.

“I think so. Maybe a supposedly-secret moment on the balcony?” Eren sharply took in a gasp of breath when you brushed your thumbs against his plush lips. So they  _ were _ as soft as they looked. You realized that there was the tiniest of scars from when you had kissed and bit him at your wedding ceremony. 

“That should work,” you said, whispering. You relished in his reactions, since he had just made fun of yours. “Who’s reactive now, hmm?” You brought your face higher, lips a hair's breadth away from touching. His breath ghosted against your face, hot and coming in short bursts.

“Why’re you suddenly putting so much effort into this? Into practicing?” Eren’s voice was strained, you noticed.

You hummed. “It makes things fun,” you said, repeating his own words. “I might not be  _ your _ plaything, but I can make you  _ mine _ .”

Eren blinked rapidly as you neared his lips; you finally slotted your mouth over his. Partially curious as to how long you could keep this going, partially tired of ignoring your lustful thoughts, and partially wanting to practice so you’d have a cooler head around him at the ball. You could still hate him — even if you wanted to taste him again, you decided. To taste and to hate, that was your game.

Eren kissed you back, gently at first, lips moving softly against yours as if he was scared of changing things too suddenly. He soon sped up as you returned his kisses, sucking on your lips and prodding at them, trying to gain a secure entrance to the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, he pulled back.

“All this for a balcony sighting?” he asked, smirking. “Quite a show.” 

Eren fell back into you again, kissing you desperately. You still wouldn’t give him access to the inside of your mouth, though, wanting him to work for it. 

Suddenly, Eren hoisted you upwards, locking your legs around his hips. You gasped at the new facets of contact: it had just been your lips earlier, and now it was your bodies, connecting but not quite. And that little gasp of yours was all Eren needed — his tongue slithered in with the adept speed of a snake poised to attack. His mouth ravaged yours, and you did your best to return that energy, returning it tenfold, making Eren raise his own efforts. It was a battle of who was more needy, more desperate for a soul-searching, soul-searing kiss. Eren somehow walked over to the couches, and laid you down upon a chaise, managing to keep his body over yours the entire time. 

None of you made to go further than kissing. His large hands only smoothed over the lines and curves of your body, not to feel more, but to commit your presence and this moment to memory. You yourself couldn’t help running your hands over his muscular back, like in their roping arrangement you’d find why you were so attracted to him. You both simply relished in the kiss, a product of all the built up tension between the two of you. You never would’ve let this fly on a regular basis — but something about your mindset had been shifting, shifting, and now it had shifted to a new spot completely.

Moments passed, again. This time, it was nothing like the calm dancing though: it was wild, erratic, hopelessly kissing despite knowing things between the two of you would change drastically and irrefutably. 

A knock at the door startled you. You gasped, brain taking you out of the moment and into the situation. You pushed Eren off of you, and he walked backwards, part shocked, part expecting and willing. 

You righted yourself before Reiner stuck his head in, wiping all traces of Eren and smoothing your hair down. Eren didn’t bother doing anything, just turned himself away from Reiner’s line of sight.

“Y/N. I, uh, wanted to check in on you. Heard a groan,” said Reiner, genuine concern on his face. Your face heat up. You hadn’t even realized you were  _ groaning _ . Or more accurately, moan — you stopped your train of thought.

“Thanks for the rescue, Reiner,” you said, forcefully bright. “Eren and I are actually done with Armin’s assignment now, so you can take me back. I’ll have dinner in my room, not here.” 

Reiner nodded, and closed the door. You went to move after him, but Eren grabbed your arm.

His green eyes, previously bright and daring, were dark. You noticed the blue in them now, like the ocean during a storm. “Are we not going to talk about what just happened?”

“Practice,” you spat. “That’s it.”

Eren sneered. “ _ Practice _ ? Alright, have it your way. I won’t ever force you.” He made to leave before you. You were seething, passionate feelings from earlier transforming into a raging monster within you. This time, you grabbed his arm.

“Forget  _ forcing _ me. You won’t get a chance. I don’t want to see you any more than I have to. The ball is the last time I’ll talk to you.” You made sure the full force of your hate was leaking out of your every spoken syllable.

“Fine! It was only physical attraction. I don’t need you,” Eren said, voice low and gruff. “I don’t need anyone.”

You nodded despite the pinprick of hurt sinking into your heart. “Glad we agree on something. It was purely physical. Now move out of my way, Jaeger.” You pushed past him, and left him behind. 

When you got outside, you quickly asked Reiner about his day, knowing he’d fill the silence with his recount. You didn’t pay attention, only enough to know to commit to short term memory for seconds in case he asked you a nonsense question or something. Most of your brain capacity was filled to the brim, already. You were desperately forcing yourself to forget what just happened, trying to replace it with hateful words towards Eren. You hated his stupid confidence. His stupid face. His stupid hair. His stupid kisses that made  _ you _ stupid. 

Once Reiner left you alone in your room, you contemplated taking one of Terasa’s pills to fall asleep dreamlessly, soundlessly. Instead, you fell asleep by dreaming of a thousand and one ways to dig a knife into one Eren Jaeger. You forgot your purpose by the time you hit thirteen, and instead fell asleep thinking of the thousand and one butterflies Eren brought to life within your stomach.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked gorgeous, wearing a strapless gown sewn using shiny lacquer fabric, a color of burnished gold like a long burning flame. The fabric was wrapped around you like a tight glove, tightening around your breast and waist, and there was a high slit on your right leg. The dress was beautiful, and made you feel like a priceless work of art — but weak, too, as you couldn’t reasonably put a strap and your knife around your leg as you wanted to. The dress was too tight, too showy. 

“You look lovely,” Mikasa said. She’d been the one to come in with the dress. As she was about to leave, you asked her to stay. You were lonely, needing to talk to another girl. Mikasa and you made small talk, exchanging stories. You told her bits and pieces about Reissa, and you learned of how she’d come to the palace, that she’d been childhood best friends with Eren. You learned his mother had died early in the war. His name and story, even the smallest crumb of it, wrenched your heart and guts, but you didn’t falter, instead letting Mikasa talk about her devotion towards ensuring his protection. If you ever needed to — to —  _ oh, for fuck’s sake!  _ You forced your thoughts to continue. If you ever needed to kill Eren, she’d be a formidable obstacle. 

Mikasa helped arrange your hair and jewelry, choosing to keep your usual gold chain as one of the layers of gold jewelry. You did the same for her, having convinced her to switch out of her traditional guards uniform for one of your articles of clothing that would still be practical for her role. It was a suit and pants set, with the blazer being of a shiny leathery material. Mikasa looked gorgeous, like a princess that could assassinate you in the blink of an eye (the best description you could come up with), and you were quite pleased with having chosen the perfect clothes for her just as she’d chosen the jewelry for you.

“Oh!” Mikasa said, suddenly. “I forgot Captain Levi needs to give Reiner and I instructions for our guard formations tonight. We’re going to have to run over now. Can I trust you’ll find the ballroom yourself?”

You smiled at her. “Yes, Mikasa. I can hear the noise from my room, so I can trace my way there.”

“Alright. Just keep walking to your left until you see a landscape painting of the sunset, and then there should be some guards to lead you further past that point.”

“Fine, fine,” you said, rolling your eyes, partially ignoring her. You weren’t  _ that _ bad at navigation. “You and Reiner should go quickly before Captain Levi is annoyed.” 

Mikasa’s lips threatened to quirk upwards, and you swore she breathed out a laugh through her nose. Before you could comment, she left, and once the mumbling outside your door stopped, you knew they had left. You stepped out, grateful for the quiet moments of peace as you walked to the right, keeping an eye out for the landscape. 

You only realized you’d walked in the wrong direction only when you stumbled upon three figures clad in clothes that were decidedly  _ not _ Paradis military clothes. Plus, they didn’t have ODM wires, or the traditional blades. Just thick guns. 

You hid behind the corridor, listening in.

“Listen, Pock, we go in and out, masks on. No civilian casualties unless necessary,” said a deep mature voice.

“For fuck’s sake, no civilian casualties? What was the war then? The one we  _ lost. _ ” You presumed the angry presumptuous voice was Pock.

“Shut it, Porco,” came an elegant feminine voice. Her voice was also deeper than most. “We’re not here to fight. Just to declare war again.”

Porco, not Pock, groaned. “We’re stealing their moves, but nicely? Nice going Ymir.”

_ Ymir. Ymir! YMIR!  _ You couldn’t hold back the gasp that slipped out of your mouth, a traitorous betrayal by your own body. Loose lips sink ships, and right now you were heading straight for a collision course, if the responding gasps were anything to go by.

“Who’s there?” asked Porco. 

You weren't sure what to do. 

“I can see your silhouette. You have five seconds to come out before  _ I _ come to you and shoot you in the brains.” 

_ One. _ You clenched your jaw.  _ Two. _ If only you had your knife … but then again, what was a knife in a gunfight?  _ Three. _

At four, you came out, hands raised. 

Porco whistled, eyes roving over your body. A tall gorgeous freckled girl, who you assumed was Ymir, widened her eyes to the point of bulging. And Zeke looked horrified.

“The Queen of Paradis, huh?” Porco said. “Lucky to find you, your majesty.” He took out a cloth from his pocket, and smoothly sped over to you to close it over your mouth forcefully, holding you against his body. You struggled, thrashing to escape. Both Zeke and Ymir yelled at Porco to stop, but despite that, within minutes, you felt your consciousness drift away — he’d drugged you. Chloroform, most likely.

You thought of two names as you felt darkness consume you: Ymir, and Eren. What was she doing with them? What was she doing  _ alive?  _ And — would you ever see _him_ again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Long chapter! So many things are happening — conflict mentally and plot wise. But also that's why you never ignore my dear Mikasa ... haha! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter with your comments, and please check out my other fics. (Plus if you notice any errors or something.) Till next time lovelies <3 (and of course, find me on tumblr as @jae-ren to ask questions and the like; always looking for more lovely friends)
> 
> PS: if you want to see the dress I’m envisioning, check out this link: https://www.teutamatoshi.com/collections/all-products/products/dreamy-marigold-gown


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